Like every other day since the beginning of the nation, the sun beat down hard on Sand Flats even as it sank down into the west. It hadn’t rained on the town in weeks, and every step kicked up more dust from the street. It coated the horses, choked the men, and filtered through every crack and seam in the shabby wooden walls of the buildings.

Somehow, despite all that, Rampinella Rose was spotlessly clean. As sunset started painting the sky red, the color glowed on her evening gown of wine-colored silk and black lace, an outfit she only ever wore after dark. Pulling on her elbow-length black gloves, she pushed open the swinging doors of her saloon, smiling to herself as she leaned her elbows on the wooden rail of her porch. Watching the shadows lengthen, she listened to the sound of her employees setting up the saloon for the night. They had some business all day round, but on a Sunday? Oh, no, all the regulars showed up after dark. Somethin’ about God-fearin’ ranch hands needing to pray once a week to balance out the sins they made on the weekend. Rampinella herself had never gone after all that junk.

She adjusted the fingers on her gloves as she straightened up, eyes scanning the street. The men should be filtering in soon, and that was when the real show began. Sand Flats, quiet, sleepy town in the great wide West, she thought, then smirked. At least until the sun goes down.

Johnny rode into town in the middle of the afternoon, maybe sometime around four o'clock. His clothes stank of kicked up dirt and unwashed odor. He'd taken to his horse early that morning, still blind drunk from the last saloon he'd partaken at.

Now, he was here in another nameless small town out west. A sign near the main road read 'Sand Flats' as his horse galloped pass the townsfolk. Johnny must of been a sight, a stranger with dark clothes and a darker horse coming out of nowhere aiming straight for the old Sandy Rose Saloon.

Johnny's buzz was almost dead, the hard whiskey from last night evaporating from his system faster then he'd like. Fear ate at his soul like a festering curse, but some good old poison would fix him up quick. Right outside the saloon Johnny tied up his horse, a content guy who had his fill of water and food the last town they rode from.

The man some called a Rat looked around Sand Flats for a moment before heading inside the saloon, taking in the barren dust around him. Place seemed so dry that Hell must of looked like an oasis in comparison. Johnny headed inside quickly, dodging a gust of wind and dust as he entered the saloon.

A catchy tone played through the whole place as he entered, something simple and fun to drink too. Almost no one else was around except for a few employees and a fine woman in finer clothes. Johnny tried his best not to stare or goggle, rushing his way to the bar and placing an order partly in gibberish.

"Whisky. Bourbon. Something quick now!"

Pete sat half asleep, his hat angled over his eyes in order to keep out any sunlight streaming in through the small windows of the sheriffs office. It had only been a few weeks since the new sheriff had come into her position. Or months. Time flies by quickly when you've got a drink in you just about every night. Pete didn't really have a lot of prejudice towards the new sheriff being a woman. Back on the farm where he grew up his mother done the same jobs as the boys did and she wasn't exactly the type to take any flak from Pete's father either. To be honest, he was more concerned about the lack of action in the town recently. Hardly anything had happened since the bandit attack that the new sheriff, Charlotte had dealt with. Pete hadn't really talked that much to Charlotte, he was sleeping or doing actual work around the town most of the time, so there was little time for conversing.

Pete leaned forward in his chair, moving his hat upwards and rubbing his eyes. His eyes fluttered open to the dim, dark surroundings of the sheriffs office. The town drunk sat sleeping in a cell to the left of Pete. Pete rose from his chair and took the keys from a small hook on the wall before fiddling around to find the right key and unlocking the cell.
"Alright, on your horse, Jack. We'll need this cell for when you get into another bar brawl tonight" He grinned, happy with his joke. His grin faded when he saw that Jack was not getting up. He sighed, leaning down and forcefully grabbing him by the arm before practically dragging the babbling fool out of the door before throwing him to the sand outside of the office.

He headed back inside of the office and retrieved his revolver. His eyes glanced to his mare's leg rifle hanging on a small gun rack on the wall. He hadn't used or done proper maintenance on it in a while, he'd need to fix that later. He made his way out into the town of Salt Flats, observing the area. It seemed Rose was setting up shop for the night and a rather uncouth individual was making his way into the saloon. Pete followed him in. Pete sat at the bar speaking after the man who seemed to be in quite the rush.
"A bourbon for me, Rose" He turned to Johnny, who, unbeknownst to Pete, was actually a wanted criminal.
"What's the rush, friend" He spoke.

Rose's mouth curved in a pleased smile as the rough-looking stranger all but flung himself into a seat at her bar. New meat was always the easiest to turn the way she wanted them, whether what she wanted was their wallet or their fists to spice up a slow night at the saloon. "'Course, sugar," she purred, sliding behind the bar and picking over the bottles on the shelves. She wasn't always tending bar—sometimes she was dealing at the tables, or shooting pool, or up on stage, or simply sitting among the men. She liked to mingle, but first customers of the night always got her special attention.

Selecting a bottle of bourbon that wasn't quite as watered down as the rest, Rose poured a shot glass and slid it over to the stranger as the deputy sheriff waltzed in. "Ten cents, sug," she said to the stutterer, resting her elbows on the bar and leaning over. She tipped an imaginary hat to the deputy as he took a seat. "Evening, Pete," she said with a friendly smile as she poured another glass. She trusted the deputy to pay his tab at the end of the night; road-worn strangers, not so much.

Johnny turned to the man speaking to him ready to practically bite his head off until he saw a deputy's badge gracing the stranger's shirt. All he could do to react was just cough into his hand, giving him maybe a dumb second to collect himself.

"Sorry, lots of sand and dirt in the air 'round here," Johnny began. "Just passing through and in need of something strong. Heading west, for work I guess. Seemed like a nice town so I stopped, but I probably won't stay for long. Probably a blurry night or two. Like I said, I had a hankering for something strong you see."

He turned his head back to the woman he'd saw before, Rose. She was surely a sight for sore eye, an unbelieving thing. Johnny quickly grabbed a ten cent piece from his pocket, slapping it on the bar like a quirky loser without even noticing it.

Santiago Montoya
Location;; Sand Flats
Tagged;; None

As the sun blared down upon his leather-wrapped stetson, his razor-sharp, deep hazel eyes hidden underneath the shade of the brim, Santiago turned El Diablo into the entrance of the quiet, dusty little town...Sand Flats, the cracked wooden sign beside the entrance read. The people outside spared the outsider a weary glance, obviously suspicious of the poncho-wearing bounty hunter. As El Diablo's trot turned into a gaiting walk, the townsfolk got a glimpse of two bodies, both with their heads covered in rough sacks, tied to the back of the black stallion, bumping softly with each hoofstep the horse took. Santiago paid them no mind, his lips frowning, teeth chewing on a toothpick long since bit and scarred. His eyes were focused on one thing, and one thing only...the Sheriff's Office. It was as dusty as the rest of the town, but he'd seen a lot worse. Hopefully their government stipend wasn't drained over things like whiskey and beer. Otherwise he'd have to move on to the next town a ways away, and by then, the corpses of the two criminals would've been decomposed and rotten, and Diablo hated having that scent on his flank.

Slowing Diablo down to a halt right outside of the Sheriff's Office, Santiago slid off of the dark leather saddle, grabbing Diablo's reigns and knotting him at the bar out front. Satisfied with the knot, Santiago moved to the back, grabbing the two tied up corpses by the collars of their dirty shirts and coats. David Beckham and Joshua Cairnford...500 bones each. He had came upon them on a whim, and recognizing them for what they were worth, he simply released two pieces of lead each into their heads, before tying them off, grabbing the wanted notices they kept in their horse saddles - a lot of outlaws kept them as some sort of pride bull - before heading to the nearest city, which happened to be Sand Flats. The lone bounty hunter opened the door with minor shoulder-bang, garnering the attention of a couple of lackeys sitting in chairs near the door.

"David Beckham and Joshua Cairnford...muerto." Santiago stated, his deep, rough voice holding a tint of warning. He was used to the younger, less experienced law enforcement officers to take the bodies and refuse to pay. After that happened on his first Bounty, he quickly learned that threatening them worked. It didn't seem to be the case for these two, however.

"Damn! Don't leak th' blood on th' floor, hombre." The skinny one mocked and laughed, while the heavy-weight man ran over, collecting the bodies, and, with a grunt, heaving them onto his shoulders. He was obviously used to taking care of the heavy lifting.

"The money. One-thousand." Was Santiago's only reply, taking the wanted notices out of his pocket, and placing them both on the desk.

"Yeah, yeah, here's your money." The thin man replied, having already undid the safe behind the desk. With a nod, Santiago took the money, and, without another word, turned on his heel, exiting the dusty office. Resting a heavy, gloved hand on El Diablo's forehead, getting a nudge in return, Santiago smirked, easily leaping up and sliding onto the saddle.

"Another one, eh, El Diablo?" He muttered, turning the horse out onto the street. The sun was blaring high in the sky, and he began to really feel the heat. Thankfully, he witnessed areas hotter than this, and it didn't bothered him much other than the man dipping his hat down slightly. As El Diablo walked back out into the open, Santiago gazed around the town, still chewing on his toothpick. "Sediento?" He asked El Diablo, patting the horse on the flank, and directing it towards the only tavern he saw since he'd been in this city. Sandy Rose Saloon. A trough of water was put out front, for the thirsty horses. Good.

________________________________________________

Santiago Montoya
Location;; Sandy Rose Saloon
Tagged;; Everyone

"Shot of 'Senorita's Spice'." He called out to the barmaiden as he sat down at the bar counter, nearest towards the door, in a bit of shade. Senorita's Spice was a very...heavy whiskey, built in with peppered spice and some extra blends, made originally in Mexico. It was world-famous, despite not many American cities having it, and Santiago was thirsting for a nice shot. Hopefully this woman had it...but he doubted it. He could count on his hand, the number of times a bartender served him weak stuff whenever he asked for a heavier drink. As he settled down, Santiago allowed his shaded eyes to roam over the other bar goers. There weren't really anyone that he paid specific attention to, although there was a grizzled man, with a black mustache, that he dully recognized. Not exactly knowing why, and not really caring at the time, Santiago turned his attention back forward, his elbows resting on the smooth wooden countertop.

It had been another excruciating long day for Sheriff Jackson. Having been a wanderer for most of her life, she was used to the sun, the heat, the dust, and the general stagnant weariness, but all of these inexplicably intensified fivefold in that small town. Or maybe it was all a side-effect from this never-before-experienced stress Charlotte had to go through being the sheriff, given that she had led a carefree, though very, very quaint life. More complaints, more problems, more outlaws, more days without a drop of rain. Charlotte reached up and wiped a bead of sweat away from her brow.

The sun was going down now, and the temperatures were at last plummeting from the triple digits. Charlotte sat at the desk in her office. Her eyes were focused on a new “Wanted” ad she was to hang up soon. Deep inside her, she longed for the day to come when she’d see the face of the man who killed the love of her life on a Wanted poster; this was not him. Sighing, she grabbed the poster and stuck it on the board outside her office.

“Lord, I need a drink…”

It had been a few weeks since she’d taken up the position as sheriff, and calling it difficult was an understatement. Sand Flats was not a big town, by any stretch of the definition, so Charlotte already knew just about every building on its mere three streets. One of the buildings that didn’t seem dreadfully depressing, was a saloon run by a woman just as, if not more enigmatic than Charlotte herself. She had never stepped foot inside, but tonight, Charlotte decided, that would change. She hadn’t touched a trace of alcohol since she arrived, but she found herself craving it more and more under the pressure of her job that she tried desperately the carry out well.

Stepping back inside, Charlotte pulled off her hat and ran a hand through her hair, figuring it was a good time to get going. Her “home” was exclusively inside the Sheriff’s Office, since she couldn’t just displace someone from their home. In the back room was her makeshift bedroom consisting of a bed, a dresser, a mirror and a tap that only worked half the time. A very small stove and table with one chair was also shoved into the already cramped room at the last minute.

She stripped off her sheriff uniform and pulled on one of the few pieces of clothing she owned—a beautiful red evening gown that could fit her since she was eighteen. It felt a little odd to be wearing something so… nice, but she figured if she was going out she’d might as well make an effort to look presentable. Standing in front of the mirror, Charlotte toyed with her hair a bit, then made sure not too much of her shoulders were exposed. Finally she slipped on a pair of sandals that weren’t the prettiest, but remained hidden underneath the folds of the gown. She also made sure to holster her pistol to a strap on her thigh, perfectly hidden behind the red. She knew she probably wouldn’t need it, but better safe than dead. The sheriff’s badge was also attached to it, because why not?

After adding just a touch of make up, Charlotte continued on outside, crossed the dusty street, and up the steps to the porch of the Sandy Rose Saloon.

Rampinella raised an eyebrow as yet another stranger wandered into her saloon. The eyebrow only climbed higher as he ordered; that was one brand she'd not heard of in years. The beastmaster in the circus had had a penchant for that whiskey—she'd tasted it for the first time while he was tending to the tigers, and it had been an awakening. He'd come in and nearly given her a black eye for it, she'd drank so much; but it was just too damn expensive to keep on the shelf when there was a brawl every other week, so she stuck to one small bottle in her private safe upstairs.

"Sorry, sugar," she called back mildly. "Never heard of the stuff. Can I interest you in somethin' else?" She winked at the mustachioed first stranger, giving him a brief smile for his compliments. "Perhaps something these fine gentlemen can recommend you?" Rose glanced over to the doors when they swung open once more, and her eyebrows raised as she took in the vision in red—was that the Sheriff? "Aw, look, real company for you sad sacks," she said brightly.

Damn...well, he should have expected it. Biting a bit more on his toothpick, Santiago thought for a second, before turning his head towards the door, spitting the toothpick into the metal bin with pinpoint accuracy. "Regular whiskey, ma'am." He responded, locking eyes with the woman, before turning his attention to the person that entered the bar. A rather pretty woman, in a red evening gown. Apparently someone noticeable, since the bartender said something about real company. Santiago snorted under his breath, returning his attention to the bar in front of him. He quickly reached into his pockets, before taking out a weathered deck of cards, shuffling them between nimble, scarred fingers, before dealing them out in front of himself. A quick shot game of wits with himself to ease the stress, and then, maybe he'd head out. Matter of a fact, it was getting pretty hot out there, and Diablo was tired. Maybe he'd stay a night.

Johnny took no hesitation in gulping his drink, leaning back to let the burning liquid blaze down his throat and rumble through his stomach. Almost immediately his buzz was restored into a passable state. His nerves chilled, even with a deputy sitting right beside him. How the fuck would he know who he is. Johnny was a drunken nobody, and he liked it!

Before he could order another drink, another woman entered the saloon in a hot red night dress. A half drunk smile etched his face, happy to be in the company of beautiful woman.

"Another please miss," He asked Rose, "and I wouldn't mind a bigger glass if you had one. It's gunna be a long night. And a round for the beautiful who just walked it. You know what, fuck it!..."

From his pocket Johnny grabbed a small bag full of dollar bills and coins, a small stash of goods he'd stollen on the way just in case.

"A round for everybody!"

Rose let her lips curl into a smile as the stranger ordered a round for everyone. A drunk man with cash to burn...just her type. She eyed the bag he was drawing bills from with a glint in her eye, although she quickly schooled her expression into polite cheer.

"Anything for you, sugar," she said, waving Sheriff Charlotte up to the bar. Slinging both glasses and bottles with ease, she poured a round for all her customers, sliding them across the bar with a practiced hand. Straight whiskey for the chico, the less-than-half-water bourbon for everyone else. "I don't even know your names!" Rose said suddenly, placing a hand to her chest in mock shock. "Introductions must be in order, I've never seen the half of y'all round here before, and I make it my policy to know all my patrons," she finished with a wink.

Pete nodded to Rose as she spoke, picking up his drink and sipping it as the man explained his predicament. He seemed to be a drifter of sorts, it reminded Pete of himself back in his gambling days.
"Well, I can only hope you don't cause trouble, friend" He took a swig of his drink, turning to the new poncho wearing man entering. He was certain he had met this guy before. He thought back to the past few months. It took him a bit, but he finally got it, this was that bounty hunter who came into Salt Flats every now and then. He was a pretty reliable fella as Pete remembered, not one much for talking though. He gave him a small half wave as he sat down.

It wasn't long until another lady entered the saloon. Pete squinted to see who it was and was rather surprised to see it was the sheriff of all people. He could hardly believe it, she never seemed like the drinking type, much less the one to wear a dress as...girly as that. He turned back to his drink, taking a gulp. He didn't exactly like getting drunk around the person basically in charge of his payroll, the last sheriff hardly ever drunk so Pete was free to get drunk as much as he liked but this was different, he could make a fool of himself and end up getting a smaller paycheck because of 'incompetence'. He looked to the bounty hunter, he had taken out a pack of cards and seemed to be playing solitaire or a game similar to it. Pete grinned, he may have been able to win some money off the hunter later on in the night.

Shortly after, the now drunk stranger ordered a round for everyone. Pete wasn't one to argue against free booze but he did feel a twinge of guilt about taking what was basically free money from a drunk bloke. Rose mentioned the fact that most of the people at the bar were, in fact, new to the town and that introductions were necessary. He decided to get the introductions started after finishing off his first bourbon and moving onto the second.
"Oh you know me, Rose, Pete the dashing deputy ladykiller with a penchant for sciencey type books" He joked, adding a rather posh accent to the last part of the sentence.

No sooner had Charlotte entered the saloon had the owner called her out, though in a nice way. She could feel multiple pairs of eyes falling on her, but at the moment, she sensed nothing too negative. In fact, one of the men sitting at the bar produced a bag full of money and exclaimed that he’d be buying a round for everyone. Charlotte smiled politely at Lady Rose after she gestured her over and approached the bar, but stood rather than sitting on a stool. She leaned forward onto the waxy wood of the bar and quickly scanned the men sitting around; she sized up the owner as well. She was admittedly a looker, dressed in a wine-colored dress, a close match to her own. She also had on a pair of long gloves. Well, nothing attracted customers like a good-looking saloon owner.

“Why, thank you, sir,” Charlotte said to the man who had offerred to buy the round of drinks. “That’s quite a big bag of money you got there… Sure generous of you to spend it on all us.” But she stopped herself there. Sure she was the sheriff, but she didn’t want to say anything too suspicious and draw unnecessary attention to herself.

Thankfully, Rose spoke up again, asking everyone to introduce themselves.

"I'm Charlotte Jackson," she said quietly. Her eyes drifted over and fell on one of her deputies, Pete. She gave him a soft smile before returning her gaze toward the bar. "I'm the... sheriff... around these parts..." She felt a little bashful saying so around so many men, but she willed herself not to care.

All of a sudden, almost too sudden, Johnny shook out of whatever hold alcohol had over him as he learned that the fine woman in red who just entered...was also the sheriff. So now the sheriff and the deputy were in the same bar as him. The sheer coincidence of it all.

"Well miss," Johnny replied in a now awakened stuper, "what is the point of money when you're around such fine folks. Fine, fine folks. This spare cash is what I've been using to get from the East to California-way. Got enough to blow from here to there, so why not!"

He turned to Rose, guessing that it was his turn to give him name. Giving his full name at this moment would be very, very stupid.

"And I am Johnny, Miss. Last name ain't nothing important honestly. Never done and never will do me no good. My pa was a right bastard and left me and my brother nothing but a useless last name. So just call me Johnny, Miss."

Rose nodded along as Johnny introduced himself, giving a polite nod to Charlotte as she chimed in. "If you're Johnny, then I'm Rose," she replied, smiling at him with a quick glance before her eyes returned to the card game being played on her bartop. "Goin' all the way to California, are you? Must be going for the gold, then. Good luck, darlin'."

She propped her chin on her hand, watching the cards fly. "Pity we got no gold left here, or you might stay awhile," she said mildly. Dropping rumors was usually the quickest way to get a man to stick around—and keep buying liquor.

As Wu rode his horse into Sand Flat he recognized the town a bit. He once came here with his mother to sell some merchandise. He was sweating hot, he took a deep breath,the air was hot and dry full of dust. As the air went to his lungs his throat was dead dry. He first needed to find a place to stay in. He searched for a rental room, but hopelessly found none. When he noticed a hotel at the end of the street. "Seriously..? They couldn't placed it in the middle of the town?" He thought. As he tied his horse a gust of dusty wind hit his face, breathing in dust. He coughed and rushed inside the hotel.

After booking him self, he went straight to bed. He was tired and dizzy from his trip. Some one was knocking on the door, "Mr.Wu I have brought you some food" a voice behind the door spoke. Wu woke up abruptly from bed, "just leave there" Wu answered. He rubbed his eyes a bit as he stood up to wash his face from the water bucket. He sighed in comfort.

Taking his hat from the hanger he opened the door and went down the stairs. At the reception he smiled at the old lady running the place and said "I didn't touch the food so its clean. I need a drink before I drop anything into my belly.". He untied his horse, gave him a smooth rub on the head and headed to the saloon.

As he approached the saloon on the back of his horse, he noticed a woman in blazing red gown. "Damn" he thought. He tied his horse and entered the saloon.

"Tiiime to drink" he thought.

"Well Rose," Johnny replied, "when I hit it big out in California you can bet I'd be right back here in this nice town. Tonight I'm just another nobody who needs good drink from a wonderful hostess."

Johnny knew he would never 'hit it big' out in California or anywhere else. His actually hopes were that at some point the over abuse of drink will kill him before the law got smart of him, or that he could survive the night wasted and leave in the morning. In a show of good faith, Johnny passed the full bag of cash to Rose with an assured smile on his face.

"Let's just call that my tab for the night Rose. I don't plan to leave this seat until somebody rips me out or I fall dead."

The layers of cards blasted from hand to hand, fingertip to fingertip, but despite the intricate dance going on between his hands, Santiago's dark golden eyes were steadied on the conversation happening to his left, his ears sharp and open for anything that would catch his attention. This was usually how he got his leads - rumours, outlaw boards, and threatening corrupted people. At the apparent 'Johnny's' 'smooth-talking', Santiago easily stopped a smirk from forming on his lips, flipping the deck of cards down onto the table with a quiet 'thunk'.

Sliding the top card from the deck, the bounty hunter looked down at the Ace of Clubs, feeling along the card's frayed, yet paper-sharp edges. This had always been his favorite card, and the one he usually chose whenever doing sleight of hand tricks. He wasn't really the type of guy to play around with money, but he was pretty good at it, all things considered. He usually hated dishonest things like that, however, and didn't really enjoy tricking innocent folk that way. 'Course he could blast a man's brains out without batting an eyelash, but swindling some guy out of his last few coin immediately brought up his moral barriers.

His small, barely noticeable smirk coming through, Santiago slid the Ace of Cards up to the right-hand side of the table, his head finally turning to the men to the left. "Up for a game, desconocidos?" He spoke, his rough, slightly accented tone holding an edge of amusement.

Wu approached the bar quietly and sat on a stool, 3 stools away from a bunch of men and the woman in red he saw earlier, they are all seated to his left. He looked around, the bar was clean and neat. Nothing out of order. He waved to the bartender and thought "I think I'll go heavy tonight.. I haven't drank the whole weekend." As the bartender approached he smiled, "What a Gal" he thought. He gave a smile "one whole bottle of the strongest drink you have and an empty glass please." He ordered as he took out a couple of dollar bills out and laid them on the counter.

When he looked to his left, he noticed a man playing with a bunch of cards in his hands. He gave a slight laughter "cards really?" He thought. When suddenly the man offered to play to the men on his left. "Hmm that would be interesting to watch". He stood up grabbed his dollars and handed them to the bartender as he approached them. When he stood near enough to watch the game he introduced his self "Evening Gentlemen, and lady. May I watch as I wait for my drink?"

Rose accepted the bag, spiriting it away behind the bar. "I'll take good care of it," she said lightly, patting it. Yeah, she'd take care of it, and it's be a few bills lighter by the time he left. Not that he'd notice.

She poured the rest of the drinks, distributing them to all who had ordered, including the newcomer. "Y'know, handsome, we've got real tables," she answered, nodding to the green felt poker table over in the corner. She cocked a hip, raising her eyebrows and grinning. "I can deal, if you like. Real fair game of Texas Hold 'Em."