The town was a tired one, yet lively. The sort of place that had once been an impressive hotspot, fed by prospectors seeking gold and by merchants seeking a populace. It had all the accoutrements of such a town: a general store, a saloon, a brothel, even a deep, deep well providing cold, clean fresh water to all. Though the buildings had worn and their facades had faded, there was still a bustling populace; most of it disreputable, but still active.

It was into this town that a pair of siblings rode. On a proud, golden Kiger mustang rode a teenaged girl, sitting pretty on a beaded saddle. Her hair was weaved together into a braid down her back, bouncing against her buckskin vest as the mustang slowly plodded past the town gate.

On her left, on an ash-grey mare, clothed in a white undershirt and well-tailored, but well-worn leathers, rode a young man, squinting against the sun as he sat uncomfortably in a tooled-leather saddle. Both wore their vests open due to the sun, though the young woman buttoned hers closed as they reached town, preserving her modesty.

The horses plodded slowly, clearly tired from a long journey, and upon reaching the saloon, the girl hopped nimbly down from her saddle to the dust, tying her horse loosely at the hitching post. She immediately headed into the thriving place, followed by the young man, who tied his horse carefully and walked with more caution, keeping a hand near his vest, where a two-shot Derringer was stored. The young woman wore her Volcanic pistol openly, low on her waist where she could draw it at a moment's notice.

The batwing doors to the saloon burst open, and the two sat quickly at the bar. The young man spoke.

"Rooms for a night, please." He flashed a coin, sliding it across the bar.

"Certainly, sir! And will you be sharing a room with your lady friend here?"

The young man looked moderately uncomfortable, while the girl chuckled to herself. He finally spoke. "Ehm, yes, but she's my sister. No romantic entanglement."

The barkeep looked skeptical, as the young woman undoubtedly had some native in her, while the young man was white as anyone, only tanned slightly from the harshness of the Western sun.

"Well, whatever you want to tell yourself. Can I get you some drinks? Food, perhaps?"

The young woman spoke now. "Bourbon for me, and gin for my brother. And some stew, if you have it."

The barkeep nodded amenably, bustling off to fetch the drinks and meals. The siblings sat, the brother uneasily, and the sister relaxed.

A day in the town, and things continued to pay off. A few hours of performing shooting tricks for the population only continued to expand her popularity, and provide for her family. Not only for herself, not only for her family, but for the citizens everywhere; for charity. She liked to give them the entertainment they needed and wanted, and it only created a sort of legacy that made her become a celebrity across, not only America, but also Europe. The queen was so impressed by her abilities, she requested Annie to perform for the president of France, and from there, the king of Germany. From that moment onward, her name was everywhere; mentioned in every direction.

Due to her humble roots as a child, Annie became too generous and caring. Not like "innocently caring", but smartly generous. Even though she was only twenty-four years old, she was careful, as well as one of those women with a conscience. Of course, she was part of a dead-on Christian family, who believed that one's virginity represented your own purity. It must be carefully given to the right person; otherwise, you wouldn't be seen as "blessed". From there, Annie took the message, and made it clear that she was to be quite hard to keep.

Riding into the town on a brown stallion, the first thing that she noticed were men tipping their hats respectfully, women smiling while walking with their children, and said-children shyly waving to her. Of course, the young woman acknowledged them with a grin and a nod; her hat following the movement, as the wind gently blew her wavy, mid-back-lengthened, blonde-brown hair; the sunlight reflecting off the metal of her revolvers, sheathed on her hips. She figured that stopping at a saloon would help relieve her from a busy day, so parking the black-haired, brown stallion in front of the building next to a few other horses. They were fine creatures, considering that her family lived in a rural farmhouse that housed more horses than she could count, therefore Annie remained fond of them.

Her thoughts were driven elsewhere when a little girl with braids and a cute dress ran up to her with a piece of paper and a pencil, asking for her autograph. Being famous had its quirks, with all the citizens having to almost treat her like royalty, though she herself was quite flattered with the attention, having to dismiss them respectfully and politely. But she was happy that as long as they were happy and pleased with her honesty, Annie was on the right foot with them. Signing the piece of paper the little girl gave her, the woman made elegant scrapes to write her name.


The girl with the braids thanked her, before running off, squealing with excitement. Watching her made Annie smile at an elderly woman the child was running back towards, who mouthed a 'thank you' to the famous cowgirl before walking away. Tipping her hat, Annie proceeded into the saloon where she made her way to the bar. The bartender seemed to recognize her almost immediately.

"Miss Oakley! Glad for you to drop in!", he was quite cheery, along with a bit of excitement in his voice. "Having the usual?"

"Yes, please", she replied, humble as usual. "Is the job cutting out for you this time?", she asked with a genuine smile.

"Oh, yeah. Giving me a good pay-raise tommorrow; a perfect day before I go to spend more time out in the country with my wife and son", he replied back, almost nervous to be in the presence of one of the most popular of individuals in the West. Of course, if you were with such a presence, who wouldn't be? Annie removed her hat, and set it on the counter next to her.

As was often the case, Fawn was the first to notice a newcomer. Even so, she didn't pay much mind to the girl, at least at first. Not until, that is, Owen also caught a glance of her over the rim of his glass of gin.

Nudging his sister and whispering sharply, he hissed "Fawn! That's Annie Oakley! The sharpshooter, the one from the circuses and all that!" He shot another quick glance at the gunslinger, somewhat in awe. He'd heard tales of her, some probably true, some which couldn't possibly be. Sure, she could probably kill a cricket at forty yards, on a good day. Everyone had their talents. But the idea that she had out-ridden Yellow Horse, or that she could hold her hand above flames without feeling the pain of their tongues... well, some things just couldn't be so.

Fawn was less in awe. Turning immediately, she stood and moved a couple stools down, next to the famed sharpshooter. She motioned for Owen to do the same, and with a moment of hesitation, she did. Extending a hand roughened somewhat by a life of hunting and tracking, she introduced herself.

"Fawn Farrow. And you're Miss Oakley, if I'm not mistaken, isn't that right? It's a pleasure." She motioned behind her. "The fellow over there trying to look all suave is Owen, my brother." She looked carefully at Annie for a moment, reading her expression as well as she could, while taking a swig from her glass. People usually assumed they weren't related, and the questions of that nature had begun to wear on her after years of it.

Owen looked rather unsure of himself, his hand still near the split of his vest, ready to go for his Derringer at a moment's notice. He felt jumpy, despite the relaxed atmosphere of the saloon. He'd been out in the wild for too long, perhaps. Even so, he nodded his agreement with Fawn's words, waving his hand casually to the legend seated a few stools away.

Annie was used to the scenarios of fans coming to meet "the shooting legend", from all over America. Considering that she was used to communicating since she was eight years old, while working at the infirmary, she was quite an introvert, explaining why she preferred to wear pants most of the time, and not one those dresses that the girls would wear, as well as her decision to hunt wild game outdoors by herself, which brought out the somewhat tomboy in her. The point is, even though she is quiet and reserved by nature, she was still great in the company of others.

So, to see this other girl come before her, she knew that socializing would never be too far away. Her drink already came just as she extended her hand, introducing herself. It was a woman of color; Native American, by her chocolate-brown eyes, brown-black hair, and...light skin? Half-Cherokee, perhaps? Annie's expression was friendly as ever, while looking back in this young woman in the same way she was looking at her; a rather clever glint in the blonde-brown haired woman's green eyes.

"You wouldn't be mistakened at all", she returned the gesture with a friendly smile on her lips. "And yes, this is quite the pleasure, to meet one of my many fans", the woman's voice was modest, almost down-to-earth, before acknowledging the young man, and making a wink back at the girl once her attention was turned back to her. "Tell me, what would you like to know?", she casually asked, before taking a swig of her drink.

Whatever expectations Owen had held about the sharpshooting legend were banished almost immediately. Annie Oakley seemed humble, down-to-earth, and even a bit casual about her notoriety. It was a pleasant surprise, to say the very least, and at the offer of an answer to whatever question he might have, he found himself considering carefully, not wanting to waste such a valuable chance to speak with the legend.

"Oh, well, if you're taking questions, then I suppose I'm a bit curious as to what you're doing in town. I mean, there hasn't been a circus or show like that in a good while, from what I've been told, at least." He tapped his fingers on the bar nervously as he added "To be honest, my sister and I actually just rode in today ourselves. We haven't much idea of the tone of the place; for all we know they have circuses every day."

Fawn shook her head helplessly at her brother's fumbling. "I'll take it from here." She patted him on the shoulder, tugging at the hem of her vest to adjust the fit slightly. "Owen here just wants to know what brought a lovely young thing like you to a ramshackle town like this one." She failed to mention the fact that she was no older than the young woman. "We're just taking advantage of the town's local facilities before moving on. We're drifters, more than anything else. Most towns don't take kindly to that, 'specially when one of the drifters is half-Cherokee, but we take what we can get. We'll more likely than not be staying here, maybe a couple of days, then back to the trail. Such is life, right? How about you? You here for long?" She downed her drink, slamming the glass back on the bar with no regard for the survival of the item or even the bar itself.