Lily sat high upon the back of a powerful black stallion, its midnight colored mane drifting in the hot Arizona wind; her left hand wrapped around the horses leather reigns looking from side to side as she lead the horse down the main street. On the horses right side there was a long leather sheath containing her Winchester rifle, both her Griswold revolvers sat on her hips tucked away into similar leather sheaths attached to a belt sporting many more rounds of ammunition for the weapons. As she rode down the road Lily reached into the black leather vest she wore over her simple white cotton button up, pulling her flask from a hidden pocket using her thumb she popped the cap up; taking a long drink of the dark liquor which filled the steel container. She was already getting interested looks from the townspeople, not only for being a lone woman so heavily armed and alone; but for the three blue lines tattooed onto her cheek most whom saw it scowled and immediately saw her as unclean sullied by the heathen Indians.

Though she was more than used to such looks and simply ignored the stares, her hard brown eyes peering from beneath the shade of her wide brimmed hat she came up to the saloon and brought her mount to a smooth stop; swinging her body off the beast letting the hard leather of her boot soles thud against the dry ground. Lily wrapped the reign from her horse around a simple wooden post, near a water trough and several other horses; adjusting the fit of her belt as she entered the Saloon pushing the doors open with both hands letting them swing back into the shut position as she entered. Her right hand grasping the brim of her hat, pulling it off of her head walking directly up to an unoccupied stool at the bar; as she sat down Lily set her hat down on the counter her long blonde hair in a tight bun atop her scalp. Raising her voice in order to gain the bartenders attention showing her rather thick Southern accent, reaching into a small pouch and producing two dollars expecting to buy a whole bottle of whiskey; the money was dirty and had a few bloodstains across its surface. Her tone giving no hint of her taking no for an answer, looking directly into the barkeeps eyes with her own hard gaze; her hand setting the bills down on the bartop waiting to be served.

"One bottle an' a glass, if ya' please."