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.
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.