The sun slowly rises towards the sky, the clouds which filled the sky over the night depart as a light breeze flows through the tough lands of the West. Somewhere a rooster cries, signaling the beginning of a new day. It is another day for outlaws, another day for authorities to track down those outlaws and another day for just the common man, trying to get by without getting in any trouble.

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Barrett groaned as the sunlight hit his eyes through the open window, he almost rolled himself off the bed but stopped at the last second. The bounty hunter rolled over once more, stuffing his face in a pillow as he attempted to fall back asleep, not willing to get up yet. He briefly passed out for another five minutes, then sprung up, energized by the quick shot of sleep.

He sat on the matress for a moment, thinking over the last night. He was in a hotel, he thought he had brought a beautiful woman to spend the night with to the hotel with him, but he didn't exactly remember much, he must've had a little too much to drink. He really needed to stop doing that, whenever he wasn't on a bounty, he always ended up drinking.

He rose to his feet, his clothes tossed on the floor in a scattered fashion. He quickly put on his pants, did the belt then put on his socks and boots before glancing at the bed. No sign of anybody else, he blinked then reached under the bed, finding his pistol, fully loaded and ready. He always kept a gun near when he slept, never knew if someone would try something. If someone really wanted to get to him, a locked door would not stop them, a bullet to the chest cavity would though. He stuck the pistol in the holster in his belt, then turned back around to put the rest of his clothes on.

Barrett put his shirt on, doing all of the buttons then found his duster, he threw that on as well. The last things he needed were his hat, shotgun and dagger. He looked next to the nightstand, on the opposite side of his bed. Surely enough, on the floor leaning against the stand was his shotgun and dagger. He grabbed his two final weapons, placing them in place on the appropriate spot on himself. He found his hat on a rack on the wall next to the door. With a final check to make sure he was ready, he grabbed his hat, sticking the fashionable piece comfortably on his head. With that he was out the door and on his way out of the hotel with only a slight hangover from the night before.

U.S. Marshal Joshua Hawkes rode into Ft.Hadley and up to the entrance of the Livery stable then stepped down of the large bay quarter horse, he could see the man he was after on the far end saddling his horse. He'd been on the mans trail for roughly a month since He'd ran from Justice and now that Joshua had him cornered in the stables, he wasnt going to let him get away, Joshua had a hunch Blackie would stay true to his nature and would'nt be able to resist whiskey, whores and a game of cards for long. He watched the man stop unsaddling his horse when the crunching of hay under Joshua's boots caught his attention, Joshua squared up then called out in a tone steady and confident,

"Dont turn around Blackie, keep your hands where I can see'em, I'm here to take you back to Sweetwater".

Blackie tense at his words, then widen his stance but, but kept his hands up on the saddle and answered back with a slight hesitation in his voice," Take me back to swing from a tree you mean, dont you Marshall?", Blackie paused a moment to gathered his courage, " You rode a long way fer noth'in Lawdog cause I aint going back", Blackie paused again, he knew he was in a tight spot, but the fear of swinging at the end of a rope was greater then eating lead, he was about to make his move when the Marshalls next words caused him a moment of doubt,"Alive or dead Blackie, it dont matter to me much, but your going back to Sweetwater", Blackie gritted his teeth and his lips curled into a twisted grin as he spun on his heels to face the Marshall, his hand going for the pistol on his right hip.

Blackie may of been a murderous scoundrel, But Joshua wasnt the kind of man to shoot another in the back no matter how much of a dirty dog an Outlaw was,but he also knew Blackie wasnt the type to go peaceably and Joshua couldnt blame him for trying, the thought of dying by haveing your neck stretched out wasnt a pleasant thought even to him. So he waited the few seconds for Blackie to spin on the heels of his worn boots and go for his gun, Joshua's own hand flashed like lightening, gripping around the handle of the Colt.44 and bringing it up out of the holster, thumb cocked the hammer, and squeezeing off a single shot before the barrel of Blackies gun cleared the holster.

The dark red spot at the center of Blackies upper chest grow instantly and he was dead before his body hit the dirt floor of the Livery Stable. Joshua holstered his pistol then took out a piece of paper and began unfolding it as the crowd slowly crepted up to see what had happened. It wasnt long before the Towns Sheriff and Deputy came bargeing in with guns drawn, stopping to look between the body on the floor and the only other man standing inside the Stables. Joshua held out the unfolded piece of paper, already knowing the Sheriffs question, he cut him off with the answer, "That man was wanted in Sweetwater for the murder of a Rancher and his family", Joshua nodded toward the dead Blackie, "I'll need you to bear witness that the man lying deads the same one on this wanted poster, then put your mark on it".

thought taken aback by the nonchalance attitude of the Marshall, the Sheriff took the poster then walked over to the body and knelt down to examine the face then the picture on the poster, after a minute he stood up and walked back to the Marshall, "Yup, that be the same man, I'll call for the Undertaker, you can come by the Office later and pick up this here poster and reward money". Joshua nodded then turned to go,"Didnt do it for the reward", was his calm reply as he stepped outside, then looked around for a saloon, wanting a drink of whiskey to cut the taste of trail dust from his throat.

Joshua walked back to his horse then stopped and decided to spend the day in town and actually eat something other then beans. Thinking it best to get a room first. He grabbed the reins and lead the horse inside the Livery stable just as some of the local menfolk were carrying the body of Blackie out. He paid for a stable for the night, unsaddled his horse then paid the Stableboy alittle extra for him to give the good hay and some oats to his horse. Grabbing his Saddlebags, He left the Stables and made his way down the boarded walkway, tipping the brim of his hat to the Ladies and nodding his head toward the men as he passed them, but for the most part they seemed to more interested in staring at the silver star pinned to his chest.

He made his way on down to the Inn, noticing it was across the dirt street from the Saloon he asked for a room towards the back of the building as he signed his name in the Inns ledger and paid for the room. The Innkeeper had a boy run his saddlebags up to the room. He stepped back outside of the Inn then took out his tobacco pouch and rolled a smoke, striking a wooden match on the post next to him, he took a puff then glanced over to the Saloon before crossing the street. Joshua stopped his lanky frame just inside the swing doors of the Saloon and looked around as his eyes adjusted to the dimly lit interior, there appeared to of been some sort of commotion going on as he watched some of the patrons fussing over some card game.

"Ugh, if these sheets were any stiffer they'd break like glass," Shilah muttered under her breath as she stripped the bed in front of her of its linens. From behind her came Mrs. Cooper's signature bark of amusement. The old woman's laughter was as robust as she was, and her vigor could be seen from the way her broad hands wiped down the only table in the room table with determined strokes. Rooms at the hotel were cramped and creaky, but Mrs. Cooper made sure that they were clean, cramped rooms. Shilah was essentially the old housekeeper's minion, scrubbing what she was told to scrub, dusting what needed to be dusted, and dealing with the aftermath of the nightly exploits of drunken cowboys and tittering harlots.

"I know they get all roostered up and don't know where they're aimin' but this is impressively bad." Shilah continued as she dumped an armful of bedclothes into the wicker basket by her feet. She knelt down to peer under the bed, and the drab gray dress and white apron that designated her position as a housekeeper crumpled under her knees. Shilah let out a tsk of disappointment. "This one didn't leave anything interesting, And I found a ripped petticoat in the last room. This morning's been disappointing."
"I don't want to think what'd happen if the boss knew what a li'l magpie you are...Well you got four other bedrooms to go, so you'd better get a wiggle on girl." Mrs. Cooper said sternly. Shilah sighed as she hoisted the linen basket to her waist. Though easily entertained, Mrs. Cooper was very rigid when it came to completing the housekeeping chores in a timely manner. It was around ten in the morning right then, so more guests would be shuffling out of their rooms soon, and their beds would need to be cleared too. And then she'd have to wash all the collected sheets. Shilah groaned inwardly at the thought.

Her hands, once smooth and elegant, had started to get callused from all the time she spent with the washboard and lye. Shilah did not mind that too much, it was just the monotony of the work that got to her. Swaggering men and sashaying women were in and out of the inn every day, each on their own little adventure. Some led more sordid lives than others, this Shilah knew very well, but she always felt a little suffocated being stuck at the hotel, each of her days very similar to the one before.
Lost in her thoughts, Shilah snapped back to her present reality just in time to scoot a little to the left and out of the way of a groggy and well-armed man who had just exited his room. She remembered him as the one who brought back a busty brunette with him sometime late last night.
"I bet he's off to put one through an outlaw. Or he is an outlaw. Either way, guess I'd better get to tending to his bedsheets." Shilah mused dryly as she neared the door he had exited from.

Flint awoke from a light sleep, the morning sun through the window hitting his face as a new day dawned. He sat up, stretching his arms out and yawning loudly before turning to dangle his legs off the edge of the bed and take in his surroundings.
He was in a room that wasn't his own and as he stretched once again he remembered where he was. A hotel room at Fort Hadley, he had come here to play cards on his day off but he soon would be going back to his home town, where he was posted as one of the lawmen. Despite not being employed here he was known to help out local law enforcement in some of the towns he visited. Flint began to recall his memories from last night, he hadn't gotten drunk but he couldn't say he hadn't had a few drinks.

Flint began to slip into his clothes, holstering his revolver and tipping his hat. Many people believed that Flints name suited him, because he was always starting fire fights.
Just last week Flint and a "Mr Jones" got into a dispute over a game of cards. All anyone knows is that they went into an alley to settle their differences and six consecutive shots where heard. Followed by one dead Mr Jones and an unscathed Flint.
Flint had told everyone Mr Jones had pulled a gun, and that he had no choice. But this was odd as Mrs Jones believed her husband had left his firearm at home. With little evidence to fight against Flint he was deemed innocent and wasn't charged. Just as always. Many people believed his actions would catch up to him one day. They even had a nickname for him.

The Outlaw With A Badge.

Flint was soon out of the hotel and walking towards the saloon, hoping to maybe get a meal in before heading out. As he got to the counter and was about to order, someone else entered the saloon. He noticed the badge first, then recognised the face. He couldn't put a name to it though and so hoped it may come to him as he turned back to the bartender, who had already began serving someone else.

The gambler shaved.

He had tried growing a beard, once, but quickly realized this was the wrong part of the world for it. Too hot, too gritty, too bright. And so every morning it was a precise shave, a few splashes of cold water, a dab of bay rum. It had become a ritual, really, unchanged by geography.

What even was this town? Fort Hadly? Probably. It had been very late when he arrived, and he had gone straight to bed. A rented bed in the back of the general store, of course. He hadn't wanted to risk the hotel, as he likely would not have been allowed a room.

Sammy Lin shrugged, rubbed a hand across his face. Smooth. Perfect. The way he liked it. He began to pull on his white suit. Lin knew these country people. A Chinese in an expensive suit, shuffling a deck of cards- just asking for trouble. Someone would want a game, and that person would underestimate him. They always did.

Of course, there was always the possibility they might just try to rob him. And so he carefully tucked the long dagger into his boot.

He took care to leave the general store out the back door. The proprietor had been kind enough to let him stay there, no sense embarrassing the man by appearing with him in public. Sammy Lin took a moment to acquaint himself, then walked into the saloon.

And so the gambler took a seat towards the back, white suit there to catch the eye. He slowly shuffled a deck of cards and waited for a challenge.

Heliosa and Ciphra

Jackson finished shaving and just leaned on the counter. He'd been thinking about leaving this town and going somewhere new, or at least find a way to get some more money. He knew what he did was wrong, but he didn't seem to mind. It was all a game to him, not to mention he knew that his family was able to go on thanks to him. He lightly pushed off the counter and put on his shirt. Then he grabbed his guns and hat.

He been in this town for a little while now, and he was getting used to the area, so perhaps he'd hit the canteen. Of course this early that might not be the best choice. Oh well he'd just have to see what was thrown at him. Jackson adjusted his hat and then walked out of his room, ready to face the new day.

Shilah hummed softly to herself as she began to tug the crumpled sheets off of the bed she was tending to. The man who had rented the room for the previous night had left it in disarray and smelling slightly of cheap women's perfume.

Swiping the pillow off the bed, she turned just as a dull clunk sounded behind her. Shilah searched for the source of the sound, and noticed a shabby brown cap box by her foot. It must have fallen off the bed, she mused to herself as she leaned over to pick it up.

"Why the hell would he have slept with bullets under his pillow?" she muttered to herself as she examined its contents, then she paused before letting out a loud curse. She had to get this to the man before he left to God knows where. Normally forgotten items would not be such an issue, but it might be the case that these bullets were very necessary to the man. Muttering a string of colorful words under her breath Shilah abandoned her basket of laundry and left the room with the cap box in hand.

In her rush to head for the hotel exit Shilah neglected to watch where she was going, and walked straight into a young man stepping out of his room. "Oh, I beg your pardon!" she said hurriedly to her victim.

Jackson reached out grabbing the lady, making sure she didn't stumble back and fall. "Careful ma'am. I'm sure what ever it is that's got you so rushed can wait an extra minute caused by you going a normal, and safe pace." He looked her up and down. Definitely older than him, and based on her skin, definitely an indian. She was beautiful though, that was for sure. "Anyway I can help you out with something ma'am?"

One thing he kept up despite going down the outlaws path, was his manners. Something his father made sure he would keep for the rest of his life. It definitely helped with the ladies, and got people to trust him easier.

Shilah had no problem being cranky and uttering swears while alone, but when in the company of any sort of stranger she tended to retreat back into the comfort of her shell, as she did now while the man she had collided with helped her regain her balance.

She noticed he was just a bit taller than her, and had wide eyes and youthful skin under his scruff. He was oddly young to be renting a room at the hotel, but Shilah knew better than to ask questions, and she had other matters on her mind right then. Her fingers tightened around the cap box.

"I do apologize, I'm normally not the type to be runnin' into people. I work here as a housekeeper, and one of the patrons just upped and left without this." she spoke with a soft measured voice, the kind used by those not wanting to attract attention to themselves.
"I know how it is out there, so I figured these are probably important." Shilah brandished the cap box and opened it to reveal the gleaming cartridges within.
"Maybe you know him?" she asked hopefully. If he could take the box to the other man it would save her a good deal of scrambling around, and she could get back to her chores. "He's real tall, about a good six feet I'd say. Orangey sorta' beard. Armed pretty well I'd say. He left just a few minutes ago." Shilah looked impatiently at the hotel door, nibbling at her bottom lip as she wondered if there would be trouble in town that night.

Jackson smiled kindly. "Well miss, I don't believe I know 'em but I'd be glad to escort you on your way to find him if you'd like." Jackson knew after a couple days after he arrived he learned that real fast. The least he could do was help the young lady find who she was looking for and make sure she was safe. Besides, maybe the guy might need a partner or something which would give him another job.

His response made Shilah pause and consider, her eyes narrowing almost imperceptibly. He was being oddly polite compared to what she usually came across in Buffalo Gulch. She wondered if he had any ulterior motives. Brushing off that thought she gave him a small smile. "That would be very kind of you. Let's get a move on then, before he disappears into some hole or other. Or gets shot." she added the last part in a mutter as she turned to head to the door.