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Wanderer of the West

"Maybe you're in the wrong kind of work then," Frankie didn't think he had did anything different than the rest of the guys. Sure, he didn't have sex with her -- but it wasn't like he had showered her with roses, or made her feel good about herself. "Thanks for busting me out of there. He'd have probably dumped my corpse out of town as soon as he could. Guy's an uptight bastard." Frankie brought a smile to his face. A small one that was easily missed. "Guess is it then, eh? One night, that's all we get." They'd known each other for a small amount of time, and neither of them knew the other's name. They didn't have to, really. Frankie had a feeling that they'd remember each other for a long time to come, even if it was just that guy/girl from a long time ago.

"You don't have to walk me to the edge of town, I know where I'm going. Catch ya around." He whispered, placing a kiss against her plush lips and beginning to walk away. Before he got too far, Frankie turned round slowly. "It'd be a shame if that ol' saloon over there went up in flames. Middle of the night when the owner was sleepin'. Accidents happen all the time." His cryptic hint referred to what he suggested she do about her debt without actually saying it out loud. Soon, he was walking away, hoping she wouldn't rope him in to it.
 
Blushing a little as Frankie kissed her before leaving her with some kind of advice to get her out of her current situation, as well as remaking negatively about the Sheriff. Watching him walk off from the jailhouse, she knew she would remember him for a long time to come. Although Rita really didn't feel right parting ways with him now. Not just yet, anyways. Quick to follow after him she was soon walking side by side with him, and close as well. "Well would you mind if I walked with you anyways? I really don't want to go back to the bar just yet, and a walk would be nice." She remarked softly, wondering if he would argue her tagging along for the moment.

"So lighting the place on fire, that's your solution?" She said almost teasingly, shaking her head. "Crude but not a bad idea."
 
He thought she was going to go right back to the bar, or at least the Sheriff's office, but she didn't. She decided to walk with him. Not that he was annoyed, or anything. He didn't mind. But he was already kicking himself for what he said -- interfering with things. It was a bad habit of his. Say something, get involved -- it all ended badly for him. All he should have done was walk away from her, maybe gave her a wave or acted cool and not look back. But now she was interested -- wanting to know more about his plan. Good going Frankie.

"No. That's not my solution. All I said was fires start all the time, and the guy that lives in the place is too deep 'a sleep to wake up and know what's going on." Frankie never stopped walking, he was determined to get out of here before she started dragging him back to the saloon to do it for her. He had a problem with saying no to things.
 
Sighing lightly as he denied his own suggestion, she crossed her arms over her chest. Noticing that he never stopped walking she was careful to keep her pace, her boots crunching in the dirt path they walked on. It seemed he was in a hurry to leave and didn't want to get involved, which distressed her a little. She hated how he had walked into her life and now just wanted to walk out of it.

"Right.." She murmured, a little annoyed. "So you're really just going to leave? After all that's happened between us? Don't stand there and tell me you don't feel at least a little something for me. I know I feel something for you."
 
All that had happened between them? What had happened? They spent the night -- just like all the other guys did with her. He wasn't any different. Sure, he never bothered to actually sleep with her, but that didn't mean he was special, did it? His pace slowed considerably when she began discussing what she felt for him. "What?" He asked, in a little bit of confusion. It made sense, really. Why she had begged the Sheriff to let him go, why she was still walking with him when he asked her not to. "What you talkin' about?" Finally, Frankie stopped. This was going down a road he didn't want it to go down. He wished she hadn't said that -- he wanted to be able to leave this town without any strings attached, without leaving something to remember.
 
"You can't just leave, can you?" She challenged as he stopped. "You know what I'm talking about." She said, stopping as well, hands resting on her hips as she looked at him. "If you really just don't care about anyone but yourself, go ahead and go. I won't stop you.." She said lowering her gaze and turning away from him, crossing her arms over his chest. If he was so determined to leave and just forget everything, she was done trying to stop him.
 
She turned away and for all Frankie knew, she was mouthing him every name under the sun, pulling all kinds of faces to express her disgust at what he was doing. "Oh what, and hang around, help you out? You heard the Sheriff. He catches me around here, what you think he's gonna do? To both of us?" He asked, walking back over to her and pulling her arm so she spun on the spot to look back at him. His filthy hands gripped the skin of her upper arms, his thumbs stroking the smoothness. "I'm not selfish. But I've done enough in my life to realise it's time to start trying to stop myself from doing these mistakes I always get caught up in. I'm sorry... but if you want to do something about it -- then go ahead." His eyes told a different story, as if he were fighting an inner battle as to whether to help her or not. He was putting up a defensive wall just now, but inside he was having second thoughts. That he might be persuaded to help one last person before stopping.
 
She sighed and kept her gaze down as Frankie grabbed her arm, turning her in his direction, but she refused to look at him, at least at his face, in his eyes. As his thumbs stroked her smooth skin, either out of comfort or just for the hell of it, she looked up at him after a few moments, but not the least bit happy. "You know I'm good friends with the Sheriff. If you just lay low and don't cause trouble again, he'll be none the wiser." The saloon girl argued, pulling away a little from his touch, crossing her arms over her chest again, kicking up some dust with her boot.
 
Frankie didn't know what to think. The Sheriff had already banished him from the town, and perhaps he might look back at this moment in time and be grateful for it. This could all lead him in to hot water, and the Sheriff's decision was a big, massive hint for him to just walk away. But Rita was different. She wasn't like all the other women he had met on his travels. Some of them needed his help, whether it be a trivial thing or murder. Rita didn't deserve the life she'd been thrown in to.
"Eight o'clock tonight. Keep an eye on the door." Was all he said to her, not definitely saying that he would return, but he supposed it would give her hope. He couldn't make this kind of decision on the spot, otherwise he'd definitely regret it. But this was going to give him some time to think about it -- and if the answer was yes -- then it would also allow him a few moments to think of how they were actually going to do it.
With that, he left, heading down the dusty road to the wild wasteland he had come from, disappearing in to the sand storm that had began.
 
Listening to his words Rita mustered a small smile, lifting her gaze to find him gone. This did give her some hope that he might return, although she didn't see it as a certainty. He most likely wanted time to think things over and she didn't mind giving him that if he needed it. The girl was disappointed now that she had to return to the bar. Alone again. And Raf might have been suspicious seeing as she was gone this long. Turning back towards town she headed right to the saloon, entering through the front door. Considering whether or not to look for potential customers or seek refuge in her room, neither option sounded great. Making up her mind she stepped over to the bar and took a seat, glancing around idly.
 
It was almost as if he had been sitting, watching the door, looking at the clock, waiting for Rita to return. He knew she had taken a long time, all he had told her to do was deliver a letter -- and it had taken well over an hour. "Getting a bit distracted, are we?" Raf asked, standing behind her, placing his hands on either side of the bar and leaning over her shoulder. His mouth was so close, his lips nearly tickled her ear. "If I knew it was gonna take you so long, I would have delivered the letter myself. So where were you, anyway Rita?"
He knew fine well what she had been doing, it was obvious. The Sheriff enjoyed Rita's company, and she enjoyed his. "Were you being a dirty slut with the Sheriff again?" He asked.
 
Rita, despite possibly facing some consequences, tried to ignore Raf. Crossing her arms over her chest, she kept watching the door, waiting for Frankie to arrive. "Buzz of, what I do with my time is my business." She said flatly, not even looking over her shoulder at him. He drove her crazy, always trying to put her down or demean her. "Just go find someone else to bother, will you?"
 
"Getting a little confident, eh? What did he say... did he tell you'd he throw me in the cell the next time I said a bad name to you?" Raf asked, lifting himself away from her and pouring himself a whisky from behind the bar. "The thing is Rita... it's not your time. It's work time. That means you don't get to go on these little trips of yours to the Sheriff's Office, and spend however long you want over there. Unless you come back with some dollars stuffed down your breasts, then that's a different story. But I don't see any." Raf emptied the glass in to his mouth and down his throat, slamming the now-empty container on to the wood in front of her.
"Well I don't have time to sit and listen to it, Rita. I'm away for the next few days, heading up to meet the Boss." Raf wrestled on his jacket and looked up at the clock. Half past five. He was leaving... and Frankie wasn't going to be here for another two-and-a-half hours! "Don't wanna be goin' out when it gets dark. Don't know what's hiding out there, right?"
 
"I guess so.." Rita murmured, trying to ignore him, but then as he kept talking, she sighed quietly to herself. He's leaving, fuck!" was exactly what she was thinking. So much for Frankie's 'plan' now. Even if he had arrived sooner it probably wouldn't have made much of a difference. And it was a shame she didn't know where the Boss was. Otherwise there was a chance of pursuing Raf and killing the whole damn gang. The saloon girl jumped as he slammed down the empty whiskey bottle on the counter of the bar.

"Have a good trip, Raf.." She whispered, at least a little gone that he would be gone, for at least a little while.
 
The Saloon Owner looked at her through narrowed eyes. She was probably jumping for joy that he wasn't going to be here for the next little while, but that didn't mean she could relax. Once he came back from his trip, he'd be finding out exactly what she did... every minute, of every hour. If it wasn't up to his impossible standards -- and it probably wouldn't be -- then he was going to have to give her the bad news that he was shipping her to the hideout. Grabbing his bag, he walked to the door and left the building. A collective sigh by all the saloon girls.

A few hours later, and Raf was miles out of town, away from the dangers of Frankie's plot to kill him and free Rita from her slavery. The Cowboy returned, about half-an-hour later than he had told her. Not that he had promised anything, mind you. All he had said was to watch the door around about that time. Rita was nowhere to be seen, so he assumed that she was probably up the stairs with a customer no doubt. As usual, he was sitting in the stool that either Rita or himself seemed to occupy when one of them was waiting for the other. He was tempted by the sweet taste of liquor, but avoided asking for some. He needed a fully-working brain for this job.
Ten minutes later, Frankie looked over towards the staircase where a man in a semi-drunken state skipped down the steps, tucking in his shirt as he left the saloon. From that, it appeared as if one of the saloon girls was finished -- he just hoped it was Rita and not one of the other's.
 
Rita, even knowing she was supposed to be watching for Frankie, couldn't pass up a vulnerable customer who had a bit too much to drink. She was by no means proud and Frankie did still mean something to her, but it was just business. Heading downstairs shortly after the man had left, her face lit up and she smiled seeing the cowboy sitting at the bar on one of the stools. Quickening her pace without drawing attention to herself, she sauntered over and sat with him.

"Hey." She greeted politely and simply, moving a little closer to him. "I thought you might not show up."
 
Why was he doing this? Why was he getting himself caught up in the same kind of mess once again? He'd promised himself that it was finished, yet here he was, sitting in front of a dame, telling her that he was going to protect her, and help her. Frankie sighed, smiling to disguise the second thoughts that were trying to creep back in to his mind. Last one. Last girl. Last time.
Frankie avoided her sentence laced with doubt, instead nodding towards the staircase. "Looks like somebody left happy." He mentioned, although the drunk customer was now nowhere to be found. Whether they had actually slept together, or just had some alone time, he wasn't going to ask. It was business for her, and nothing to take too personal.
"Where is he?" Frankie then asked, changing the topic to the reason why he was here. The Saloon Owner wasn't anywhere to be seen, so it left him with one alternative guess. It was unfortunate that Frankie had picked the wrong guess. "He upstairs?"
 
"No, he left town. Might be gone for a couple of days." Rita answered with a heavy sigh, knowing that the 'plan', as it were, was ruined due to Raf's absence. Maybe if Frankie had shown up earlier it might have worked, but after all he had not guaranteed returning at all. But he had, and that at least gave her some hope of escaping this life. His comment about her last customer hurt her a little, but it was nothing to hold onto. He was clearly detached from the situation, but she couldn't exactly expect commitment from this stranger, commitment she was willing to give.

"So I'm not sure where we go from here.." The saloon girl murmured with another sigh.
 
"Well it's obvious, ain't it? Raf ain't here, so who's looking after you? He's not got a ball-an'-chain around your ankle, you're free to run." With the owner gone, it was the only solution. Run, and never look back. Get out of the region, well away from this damn town and anything like it. Travel to the coast, and get herself a proper job. Frankie was sort of getting relieved about the whole situation, now realising he wasn't going to have to fight her out of here. Or, that's what he thought anyway. He wasn't aware of Raf's gang -- the very ones the owner was going to visit.
 
"It's not that easy.." Rita explained, shaking her head at Frankie. "Those who run don't get far. The gang..they always find you, wherever you go. They've got men in every town, always alert, keeping an eye out for runaways. I can't just leave." She said with another heavy sigh, thwarting his so-called simple solution to her problem. "Even if Raf is gone, I can't just go. I'd be found, and even worse punished. He said one more mistake and I'd get sent to the bosses. And that's a hundred times worse than it is here."
 
"So, what? You're going to stay here 'til you're told? What you think's going to come first... your debt paid off, or you're too old to bring in the punters?" Frankie asked, a little aggressive but he didn't mean to be. It just sometimes frustrated him that people were given one single opportunity in their lives, and they didn't take it. Wouldn't she rather taking her chance for freedom? When would it happen again?
"Look. Go and get ready." The Cowboy wasn't taking no for an answer. The plan had started. He was only going to help her once. "Just bring the essentials. You can't carry a wardrobe of clothes with you."
 
"Okay." Rita nodded, figuring she should just listen to Frankie. Hurrying up the stairs to her bedroom she packed a few changes of clothes in one suitcases, although with the small amount of spare money her job has afforded her. Then, going to her bed and slipping a hand under the mattress, she retrieved a small six-barrel revolver. Something she had received from her father before he died. Why she had never used it to escape was beyond, but she was never one to take risks, or kill anyone. But it seemed now she was taking the biggest risk of all.

Packing not too much in her single suitcase, taking the essentials as he said, the saloon girl almost though to change but figured time was of the essence, simply throwing on her heavy coat once more over her corset. Leaving her bedroom and heading back down the stairs to the bar where Frankie still sat.
 
There were a couple of people that turned their heads to her appearance in a coat and suitcase. A few of the saloon girls and the bartender for one -- obviously wondering what she was doing. Frankie was probably guessing that they just wanted to stop what they were doing with their customers, and start whispering to one another about how crazy she was to try and make a run for it. Guesses of how far she'd get, and how long she'd go without being caught. The Cowboy turned to the woman and stood up, rolling his shoulders, he wasn't aware that she had a weapon on her. Even if he did -- could she use it?

"Let's go. I hope none of the women are on the same side as your boss." He muttered, placing a gentle hand against her back and walking her out of the saloon, quickly heading towards the town exit. "There's no going back now. As soon as we walk down this road, that's you -- you're taking the biggest risk of your life. I hope you're prepared for it." Frankie said, his hand remaining against the back of her coat.
 
"I know it's risky but with your help I should have more of a chance this time. Anywhere is better than this place." Rita nodded listening to Frankie as he ushered her out of the bar and then near the edge of town. She stood a bit closer to him as they walked, her suitcase clenched tightly in her hand, leaning against him a little for comfort. In honesty she was scared but he made her feel a lot safer than she really was.
 
It was a long walk ahead of them. Where were they going? He didn't know. The nearest town to here was Fort Angel, a large town protected by the presence of the United States Army. However, it was a risk. Because for all he knew -- and the way that the saloon girl described this gang -- they probably have some kind of influence and control over this settlement as well. They could either risk it, or try another direction.
To the east of Fort Angel was a village named Deep River, which as the name suggested, was situated right beside a body of water. It wasn't that big, perhaps half a dozen houses and that was it, but once again there was no certainty that it was free of this gang. It didn't really matter. Frankie knew that they were going to get caught up in some trouble one way or another. It was all about choosing whereabouts it was going to happen.
"Maybe you can take the train north. Start a new life on the east coast." He shrugged, certain that the gang's influence wasn't going to reach as far north-east as that.
 
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