Luck of the Draw (Xanaphia x Vinaein)

[Vinaein]

@Xanaphia



"Alan Griffin thought death couldn't be any colder than this.

He lay on his back, pillowed in pale snow, eyes staring up at the black sky, in a carpet of night seemingly devoid of stars, a bullet hole in him. The cold was seeping into him. Or was the warmth seeping out? It was hard to tell. In these territories, death was not supposed to come easy as this, he thought bleakly, green eyes fixed upon that blank sky.
It had started so easy. He had traveled here all the way west to map out routes for gold and minerals, booked rooms, and set off to get this trail blazed. He had heard tell of the dangers, even as he had attempted to avoid them.

But that had been a remnant of his time with the Marshals, when his future had been promising. He had rode alongside others, his brother included, in pursuit of justice. His pistol, once only drawn in defense of the law before it had been removed in defense of profit and his own will, was at his side, the butt still resting against his open palm. He stared up at the edge of the cliff, smoke rising from the hole where his chest met his shoulder.

For a man out to seek a fortune...Well, he'd found it, hadn't he? He had chased the claim, pursuing the hints of riches and gold to restore the future taken from him. He had found it,t he glittering remnants near the old mine. He had worked with others, ready to split the take fairly when they had emerged, only to find himself facing betrayal. He had drawn his gun, quicker than any of them, taking two when the shooting had started, with him on the edge of the cliff by the mines. But the leader, the man wearing black over his face, smiling with his black eyes had drawn and shot him twice, before ordering him thrown off the cliff, his blood now pooling to soak black under the moonlight into the snow beneath him.

So he simply way there, lungs drinking deep of frozen air, waiting for death or help to

 

[Xanaphia]

Alex Winters huffed as she stacked the last couple bundles of split wood in her cart. The effort of chopping had kept her warm enough while the sun went down, but now that the moon and stars lit up the sky, she shivered, and tugged her duster tighter around her.

It wasn’t a case of irresponsibility that led her out late into the night, chopping wood, but generosity. Old man Wilkerson had run low last night, when the unexpected chill set in, and she sure as hell wasn’t about to let him trudge out in a foot of snow to chop some more. Hell, he hacked up half a lung on the last time they’d left together to collect wood, and it hadn’t even been cold enough to fog the air with each exhale. After everything Wilkerson had done for her since she’d arrived in Independence Bluffs, sparing him the last of her woods was the least of it.

‘Course the damn fool never would have accepted he had known she was a woman, but that was a lie she could live with. Especially if it kept him living another day. He was a good man, even if he was a little old fashioned and set in his ways. Woman or not, she was young and healthy enough to manage this, gathering up enough wood for both of them for the next couple days. Long enough to outlast this first snow fall, at least.

Sampson, her chestnut gelding, snorted as she hooked up the cart. “There, there, buddy,” she cooed, sticking with the gruff tones she’d adopted since settling in to town. It was just easier to be a man in these parts, and as long as she played the role, nobody questioned her too closely. Without wasting anymore time in the rapidly freezing evening, Alex climbed up her horse and urged him into a cantor. Blistering winds made it too cold to push into a full gallop, but she didn’t want to stick around out here any longer than necessary.

There, had that snow drift moved? Was it a wolf, looking to pick off an easy meal under the moonlight, perhaps? Despite herself, Alex urged Sampson closer, and gasped as she identified the shape. A man! Now she pushed to a gallop, recognizing the blood that formed a pool beneath him as she approached. “Sir?” she called, pulling back the reigns once she’d closed in on him. He was in bad shape, skin pale and nearly blue, eyes dark and distant. She left the Winchester on Sampson, but patted her Colt as she landed in the crunchy snow. Hopefully whatever –whoever– got him wasn’t waiting around pick to pick her off.

“Sir?” she called again, and sucked in breath at the sight of the bullet hole gurgling out blood. Shit, he wasn’t going to last long at this rate. She dropped to her knees beside him, and scooped up some fresh snow in both hands “Sorry, this is gonna hurt, but it just might save ya.” She packed snow onto the wound, hoping beyond hope that it might just freeze his blood enough to stem the bleeding. Then she dragged him through the snow and loaded him up into the cart with her wood. He weighed a goddamn ton but at least the strain of carrying him let her forget about the biting chill for a time. Once he was secure upon the wood, she jumped back onto Sampson, and raced into town.

After all that, it’d be a damn shame for him to up and die now.

 

[Vinaein]

The West was unpredictable, a place where death could occur at any moment. One could find themselves stranded in the desert with their water lost. One could find themselves in the most extreme of frozen temperatures, caught in a sudden blizzard as their flesh and blood chilled within the frigid winds. One could be bitten by a snake, pounced upon by an angry cougar. One could slip at the wrong place, eat the wrong berries...

Or one could be betrayed by those they believed they trusted. That was the dilemma of Alan now, laying in sleep now, unaware of those who had saved his life. Memories flashed before his eyes, men he had trusted kicking and striking him, dragging him away, men in black masks around the lower halves of their face with laughing, mocking eyes and raised guns. He heard the crack of thunder, felt lead rip through his flesh.

In his dreams, he fell, he fell into the cold, pain leaking from him. He could feeling the snow, reddening beneath him. In his dreams, he saw what might have been, glimmering, gilded dust in his hands, golden rocks to make a fortune with, to escape his past and to make a new life. He thought of Luke, his brother, who might never see him again, nearly weeping at the thought of all he had left behind, for even the simple joys of warming himself by a fire-

He felt warmth. He felt pain. He felt his wound packed full of cold, too real to be death. His breath rattled through his lungs as he tried to focus. He was wrapped in bandages, laying back against...sheets? Warmth? A pillow under him? but it couldn't be death. It couldn't be him awakening in heaven to a warm bed to spend eternity in. No, it hurt too much for that. His eyes fluttered and he tried to sit up, weakly struggling for even that simple motion. His throat was dry, he thought weakly. He needed water, his hand twitching as memories flooded back to him.

I'm alive, he realized. He was alive, someone had saved him, rescued him, pulled him from death's door.

But who were these people? Lucas, he thought weakly, thinking of his brother...always the good one, always the lawman...

He was alive. Against all odds, he yet breathed. Someone had rescued him. But who?

And what did they want?

 

[Xanaphia]

“Is he going to make it, Doc?”

It had been touch and go, every since Alex had piled the wounded stranger into her cart. A struggle against getting back to town fast enough to make a difference, and not jostling him too much, making his already precarious injuries any more perilous. A careful rush to Doctor Henley’s home, pounding hard enough at the door to wake the doctor and praying he hadn’t gotten into his cups yet. He was a good man, a good man who’d seen too much blood and death in his life, and he’d once confided in her that whiskey was about the only thing that could keep the nightmares at bay.

Tonight, they were lucky –well, as lucky as a man who’d managed to get himself shot could consider himself, at least– in that they were only interrupting the good doctor’s supper. Then it was just impromptu surgery to remove the bullets and sew up the wounds, so he wouldn’t bleed out. A tense hour with Alex feeling mostly helpless, unable to provide much assistance to the doc. But she could at least hold the man up so the doc could wrap his injuries, so she wasn’t totally useless.

Doc Henley wiped his brow with a handkerchief, “I suppose if he makes it through the night, he’s liable to pull through.” He rinsed the blood off his hands and took a long drag off his pocket flask. “And who is he, anyways?” he asked, scrubbing excess whiskey from his lips.

“I reckon he’s a fella who needs our help,” Alex answered, offering the stirring man a sip from her canteen. I just hope he don’t bring whatever trouble he gotten into here.

 

[Vinaein]

Doc...Alan heard the word there. Someone had found him, he thought weakly as he sank back upon the bed. Someone had saved him, taken him to get treatment. Hell, he was lucky for it; most of the coyotes out here would simply put a bullet in his skull, rifle through his pocket and leave the body to the buzzards. The outlaw winced at the pain in his chest, but the rise and fall of it left no mistake to the evidence: he still lived, he thought.

The sounds so close to him announced the presence of other living beings. He could make out the other voices while they were talking, but the tones and pitch left a question to their gender and ages. What if they had saved him for their own purposes? Hell, what might those purposes be? No telling if anyone was being a good Samaritan; Alan had lived long enough to know not everybody meant well, that favors came with strings hooked to them. When the the shuffle of footsteps told him more as someone drew closer, the clip of boots upon the floor nearing to him. He looked up, in slight surprise...

The face he saw in the dim light was someone...attractive, of indeterminate gender. He remained where he was, his blue eyes resting upon them as their tone turned gentle, the same tone Alan might have used with a panicked horse. The thought made him chuckle amusedly, a weak smile coming to his face as his chest rose and fell in its own pace. "Much obliged," he managed, his throat so dry it made his voice a croak as he fastened his lips to the canteen. No whiskey, no water, no juice, no ambrosia from the heavens ever tasted so sweet

"Guess I owe ya my thanks, don't I...? Ya got..a name...mister...or is it miss...?" He laughed weakly and it made everything hurt all over again. "Damn...can barely move..." he said, looking up at his rescuer.

Maybe, just maybe, fate had spun its capricious wheel to his favor for once. But he was not yet ready to count those hens before hatching.

 

[Xanaphia]

Relief broke into a soft smile on Alex’s face as the man stirred, and opened his eyes. At least he wasn’t dead, not yet. Her efforts amounted to something. Whether or not this had been a mistake, however, was yet to be seen.

"Guess I owe ya my thanks, don't I...? Ya got..a name...mister...or is it miss...?"

“Alex,” she offered, evading his questioning about her gender. But she emphasized a deeper tone, hoping to throw him off the idea that she might be a “she.” Offering him a little more water, she continued, “Alex Winters. Sheriff here, in Independence Bluffs.”

“And you ain’t gonna wanna move around too much,” Doc Henley advised, standing over them. “Don’t wanna pull out any of your stitches, now. You lost a lot of blood, so you don’t got much to spare.” He lingered for a moment, beyond professional duty as he studied the young man laid out in his house. Of course he was trying to figure out what trouble Alex had dragged to his door after dark. Well, she supposed she best be getting onto that.

Alex left him with the canteen, and eased back into the nearby chair. With a nod, the questions started, “Who are you? And, uh, what happened, anyways? I’d like to know if there’s bandits accosting folks outsida’ town.”

 

[Vinaein]

Alex, he thought. Her voice shifted a touch, making it impossible for him to determine anything about this individual's gender. The way Alex was smiling was a bit of a relief, though. Alan did not suppose they might rob him, take his things or kill him and cook him up for supper. He'd heard rumors of such things happening every so often and had little desire to experience them firsthand. "Alex Winters," he managed, before he took the water back. Sipping slow, he reminded himself as he drained it down his throat. The water wasn't exactly cold or sweet, but it was like ambrosia from heaven above. Cleansing the dusty dryness within his neck, he drank freely, so quick he almost coughed.

He controlled himself, though. Such a thing would just be a bad first impression, wouldn't it? He coughed made a low noise in his throat. "So this here place. Independence Bluff, y'say?" He tried to think if he had heard of any town by that name before. The west was full of them; little independent fiefdoms here the sheriff was law, some ruled by oil and railroad barons, or other wealthy folk. Most with barely any hint of government at all, thriving in the rugged wilderness and avoiding any conflict they could. It was a long ways away from what others called 'civilization' after all.

And Sheriff. Something lit within his mind at that. He didn't think he was in legal danger, but he could not be too sure. "What kinda town is this, Sheriff Winters? Doc?" He peered over at the doctor, before the canteen was in his hands and the two were watching him. He weighed the truth within himself, fighting between honesty and lies.

"My brother's...from the Rangers over in East Texas. way back," he admitted. "I decided to ride further West with some friends. Ex-Pinkertons, y'see." A frown crossed his face. "We had some disagreements about how to handle things. I thought it was settled and we went out separate ways...Some of 'em apparently disagreed..." He was trying to remain as vague as possible on it.

"I thought we were having an amicable parting of ways...splitting claims we were carryin' on gold and oil down in the west. Apparently they wanted more'n their fair share. Next thing I know, it's bein' shot and tossed down the cliff. Woulda joined the landscape permanently if ya hadn't come along," he added. "...Ya ever heard of a man by name of Micah Flint, Sheriff?"

 

[Xanaphia]

“No, I don’t reckon I have,” Alex replied, sitting back in the char. She watched Alan carefully, analyzing his every movement, trying to divine the truth from his tale. “Is that someone I should know?”

From the sounds of it, what the young man survived was just a personal quarrel between him as his so-called friends. Seemed like they were more interested in his claims than his life. Hopefully not the sort to come back and try to finish the job. Hopefully.

He still hadn’t given his name, but Alex ignored it for now. They’d get all that sorted, soon enough. For now she supposed she could answer some of his questions. “We’re just a simple town, here in Independence Bluffs. Ranchers, mostly and miners. Honest folk that believe in hard work and grit.”

She watched the young man for a moment longer before pushing herself to her feet. “Go on and get some rest tonight. If you’re healed enough by tomorrow, we’ll get you out of Doc Henley’s hair. And once you are healed up, we’ll get you set up with some work around town. Even if you still wanna head out west, it’s probably best to wait out the winter here. Tess could always use an extra hand, and Lord knows she could afford it.”

She passed Doc Henley on the way out, and placed a hand on his shoulder. “I owe ya one, Doc.”

He shook his head, “Nah, I reckon we’re ‘bout even.” Taking his eyes off the man sprawled over his couch, he smirked at Alex, “But I am going to have to charge ya for the next poor soul you drag in here.”

Alex shared a laugh, “I reckon you would.”

 

[Vinaein]

Alan's lips pursed as he considered of what to say should it come to it. Injured and tossed down a cliff at the behest of some very bad people, there was a limit to what he could say without incriminating himself. He was being truthful, far as it went, though perhaps not saying everything. Maybe that was obvious to the sheriff. "Lotsa folks know Micah Flint. Most don't know him for very long though, if you catch my meaning. He's swept through a lot of spots before. I ran afoul of him and his..." He didn't mention there was only one way to cross a man like that sometimes...

Take something from him...and it worried him about the town now. Flint had his hand in lots of pies there, with a number of ranchers and land barons knowing of him. "Name's Alan," he said at last. "Alan Griffin, to use the full name." He finished. "I'm much obliged to you for saving me, sheriff..." With any luck, they wouldn't check for a body, the damn traitors...but there was no reason to elaborate too much now. "Independence Bluffs," he repeated...damn, as if it might make sense and he might reason his way through it and remember something he had never heard of.

"Honest folk ain't much I've seen round the west. Glad to see that might prove different here...." he gave a weak grin on a pale face, having lost a significant amount of blood from his injury. "...Give the doc my thanks for me," he said. The prospect of work around town had a mixed blessing for him, but he supposed he could swing it...a way to lay low for a time. That, at least, could prove beneficial...maybe he might even get paid for his trouble. "And just who's Tess, now?" He pressed...before he settled back to wait...

The winter would be a long one in Independence Bluffs...and cold enough that nobody would come round looking. This could work to his favor...and the face of Sheriff Alex Winters remained...

Now, then. He only had to figure out more to this town...

 

[Xanaphia]

Over the next couple weeks, Alan recovered from his injuries. Enough that he could get up off the cot of his own power most days, at least. Now while Alex was relieved that man was slated for a full recovery, continuing to keep him in her home as he returned to full strength made her a touch weary. Sure, he seemed to be a decent fella but many a decent fella could be a bastard in private. But even if his decency were earnest, she still had her own secrets to keep. Secrets that were easier to keep without a man around.

---

In the late morning, the Lucky Lass was mostly empty, save Alex and Tess, the saloon’s owner. Tess wiped down glass as Alex made her proposal for Tess to hire on Alan.

“This ain’t a charity, Alex,” Tess reminded her.

“Not looking for charity, just honest work. We both know you could use a hand around here, keeping the peace. A strapping young man who can remind everyone to mind their manners.”

Tess frowned as she dried another glass. “I suppose a little muscle could go a long there.” She shot Alex a look and a smirk, “So, is he handsome?”

Alex opened her mouth to protest, but shut it even quicker, knowing she was turning beet red just considering the question. Just considering the man who had slept a scant few feet from her bedroom every night. “The thought never crossed my mind, but, uh, yeah. I suppose he’s fine. Decent even. Probably clean up awful nice after a bath and shave.”

“That good looking, huh?” Tess laughed a knowing laugh and started on another glass, “In that case, I suppose I can make some room. I can offer three dollars a day, plus room and board. Send him by tonight– I’ll get him started right away.”

 

[Vinaein]

It took a few days, sure. It took longer than days, but little by little, Alan Griffin clawed his way from the edge of death until he could stand. When he could stand, he could walk. When he could walk, he could work. He kept himself by Alex Winters (still not certain if the sheriff was a man or a woman, which would be unusual for the west but it would not be unheard of, in his experience.) Alan was being able to stagger his way back to competence.

Even living with the sheriff, he didn't feel he knew them yet. They had their secrets, but that was alright, he had his. Still, this could be a new start. Or a temporary measure to hide away. No way would Micah Flint's grasping little fingers snake over here to find him, he told himself. Alan kept his relief off his face. He ate, he drank, he felt human again. Color returned to his face, energy returned to his body. He was able to straighten again. Though he damn well still wished he had a gun on him.

So he was soon informed of the opportunity at the Lucky Lass. A chance to get some work done. By the name alone, he could guess it was a saloon. Well, so be it, he thought to himself. He wasn't exactly dressed in his Sunday best, more a shirt and trousers, no hat. He was freshly shaven, bathed and looking as best he could. His face was slightly narrower than he was comfortable with, but his arms were strong still. He was exercising again, too. His arms were strong as a result, lean muscles hidden beneath the sleeves.

He had views of Independence Bluffs, the quaint town in the snow. It was a town like any other, with so many going around about their business. There were the shops, the butcher, the local smiths and so much else. It was a small community and persisting, thriving.

He was beginning to recognize the man in the mirror again, walking down to the Lucky Lass as he thought of Luke. His brother had always been the more straight edge of them. Lucas Griffin likely wondered about him, worried about him...might never see him again. But it kept him away from Micah Flint and the rest of those damned traitors...

But the less the Sheriff knew right now, the better. It was as he was arriving he saw another man walking in ahead of him. The man wore fine clothes, a sweeping coat, with a handsome face and dark hair swept back from his face, with bright green eyes. He glanced over at Lucas, barely perceiving him as Lucas arrived into the Lucky Lass.

"Why, Tess...this fella new muscle?" The wealthy man grinned, flashing pearly teeth. "Didn't tell me you had new employees. You have the money to cover that?" He tipped his head. "And if it ain't Sheriff Winters..."

Cyril Bancroft was known as the wealthiest man in the region for good reason...and one of the least liked.

Also for good reasons.

 

[Xanaphia]

Tess had been expecting Alan that evening. After Alex’s plea, she’d watched him from afar, to try and figure the man out. And So far, she hadn’t succeeded. He was a bit like Alex, in that regard. Keeping his cards close to his chest. Tess didn’t mind much –hell, she liked a challenge, on occasion. At least he’d be interesting to keep around. Well, interesting and pleasant to look at, and hopefully intimidating enough that all the customers would mind their manners. That would be enough.

Cyril Bancroft was another matter entirely. They’d been corresponding over letters and telegrams, and frankly, Tess would have preferred to keep it that way. It was bad enough the man had gone over her loan paperwork with a fine tooth comb, and counted every last penny of her of her payments. Searching for some mistake she’d made, some “I” she’d forgotten to dot, or a “t” she’d forgotten to cross. Whatever excuse he could to void her contract and snatch up her land and livelihood.

Oh sure, his initial offer had been to buy it off her directly –for a pittance. And hells, he even offered to let her continue to run it– so long as he got his big fat cut of the profits. Her refusals had frustrated him. He was just to protect her, he had assured her. Running a business was no business of a lady, and she’d clearly gotten in over her head with the loan. She disagreed, and he didn’t take kindly to disagreements.

Now he owned half the town, on paper. At least, most of the town now paid their mortgages directly to him. And here he was, in the flesh, to see to his various investments. To watch closely for any mistake, any excuse to claim their lands for his own. “As I have mentioned, Mr. Bancroft, business has been good to me. Our town is growing, and I have to grow with it.”

“Indeed, indeed,” he agreed with a laugh, and slapped Alan on the back with a heavy, yet smooth hand. “You take good care of our little lass here. There’s lotsa folk ‘round here that might delight in seeing her fall, and, well, I need someone to protect my investment.” He laughed then, a bit too loud and a bit too long to be appropriate, and dusted off his hands, “Well, Tess, we got a bit business to discuss between us. I’ll wait for you in the office. Oh, and be a dear and bring a bottle of whiskey, won’t ya?”

Tess hid her frown until his back was to her, and sighed once his disappeared. What a way to start her night. Her attention turned to Alan, and she managed a brief smile. “Why don’t you go on and have a drink, on the house. I’ll be by in a bit to get you all caught up on your duties.”

With another sigh, she steeled herself to met with Cyril.

 

[Vinaein]

Alan Griffin had ever been a man who kept things close to his chest. It was a survival mechanism, as much as anything else. Alan had never been a lawman like Lucas. He'd never been one to wear his heart freely on his sleeve. Since his youth, he'd carefully guarded his emotions, like the time he'd been blamed for stealing that little collection of precious rocks and had even taken a flogging from that old bastard Mr. Corcoran who had been so thoroughly convinced he was responsible. He'd never broken for it, never cracked and showed any pain. Not then, not when he'd gotten into fights with older and larger boys, not when he'd hooked up with Micah Flint's lads, not when he'd been betrayed and left for dead.

And sure as hell not now. He had a job, that was something. He had an offer at a place where nobody knew him and where the past remained a few leagues behind him as it was supposed to stay. Nothing the matter with that, he considered to himself. Work at a fine establishment, stand around and look pretty while taking care of all that needed caring. He could do that, no problems and no fuss.

The man before him, though? Was clearly one of Those Types, as his father had been wont to say. Those types who lived in fancy places, who saw human beings like they were made of coin. He did not know the depth of Cyril Bancroft's wealth or his dedication to the ownership of so much of this region. Bancroft was not rich in the way of ordinary people; he was wealthy, obscenely so. A man who stood in the peerage of Hearst and Rockefeller, a man who would in some cases be considered too good for this region. But when a man like that had everything there was to want, he suffered an affliction common to his kind.

He always wanted more. And Independence Bluffs was on that 'more.' He could have been a governor if he chose, could've bought a Senate seat, but then he would have been conceding that he had Enough and he wanted everything there was to take before he could even consider he had Enough. Half the town was just half and Cyril Bancroft was a glass half empty sort of man.

Alan didn't much like having his back smacked by the man, with his thick hands. He didn't much like the man at all. Wasn't a man with money like this, the way that suit bespoke, who hadn't stepped on a bunch of Alans and Tesses and Alexes to get to it. Might be a touch hypocritical, mind, given how Alan had been planning on making his fortunes, before those damn snakes had enured he'd lost the maps to the Claims....but what did someone expect? Perfect consistency? Alan was only human.

The words 'investment' bothered the living hell out of him, like human beings could be reduced to numbers on a ledger. When Cyril Bancroft looked at people, he could only see the ledgers. Alan simply put on a smile and held his tongue. He glanced at Tess once Bancroft was out, his lips curving downward. "Was hoping to make your acquaintance in a different manner'n this, Miss Tess," he said quietly. "...Anything I can do?"

All while Cyril Bancroft made himself at home with the confidence of a man used to getting his way.

 

[Xanaphia]

"Was hoping to make your acquaintance in a different manner'n this, Miss Tess," Alan said quietly.

“Oh, is that so? Aren’t you a bold one?” Tess laughed, as if she could forget the uncomfortable meeting waiting for her in her office. “That won’t be on house now. But maybe if you play your cards right…” She leaned in close, close enough to feel his breath on her face, and clicked her tongue. It was always fun to tease a newcomer.

Oh sure, she knew what he meant, with his offer. Knew he could tell just how little she thought of Mr. Bancroft. And while she’d hoped Alan would play tough around the patrons, put a little fear of God into them, Cyril wasn’t the kind of man he could just intimidate away. No, he had to be catered to, at least a little bit. So she grabbed a bottle of whiskey off the top shelf of the bar, and headed back to the office to deal with that man.

Cyril Bancroft sat behind her desk as she walked in, and made no move to get up. Just held out his glass, expectantly. His eyes followed the line of her cleavage as she bent over to fill his glass. “My, my, my, Tess, you really are too radiant to waste your youth in a place like this.”

“I don’t see it as a waste.” She stood for a moment, waiting to see if he would move from her chair, before taking the other, on the other side of her desk. “Besides, where else would I even go?”

“Tess, dear, I’ve made you an offer,” Cyril insisted. “Enough to get you out of this hole, and set up somewhere sunny.”

“You have,” Tess agreed, topping off her own glass of whiskey. “But it’s 20% less than I’ve paid into this place.”

“Well, a good businessman knows better than to throw good money in after the bad,” Cyril lectured, motioning with his glass. “But I’m sure you’ll learn that lesson eventually, Dear.”

“Maybe I’m not convinced this is a bad investment. After all, I’ve turned profit every month I’ve been in charge.”

“Oh, you’ve turned something alright,” Cyril mocked, and sipped at his whiskey. “You’ve been lucky, but your luck won’t last forever.”

“Then when I miss a payment, you can evict me, and rename this place ‘The Unlucky Lass.’” Tess stood, and finished her glass of whiskey in one long swallow. “Until then, I bid you a good evening, Sir. Some of us have work to get to.”

 

[Vinaein]

"Bold one- " Alan began before he almost choked a bit, laughing. "Beggin' your pardon, ma'am, I didn't quite mean it that way!" Alan was not a green boy when it came to women, but damn it, way to make a first impression with his new employer. Alan waved a hand weakly. "Ain't at all what I meant in fact, not that I'd be averse to- y'know, I'll just be shutting up! In fact, I know cards well, proper like a good game of poker?" He gave a weak grin, impressed how effectively Tess had managed to disarm him with just her words...her face was lingering close to his, her beauty impossible to ignore.

He could also tell Tess was stressed. Perhaps humor was her way of dealing with that. He'd not be able to blame her, he used it as a defense mechanism as well sometimes. With Cyril Bancroft so close, he could tell that there was a level of stress involved her, not that he liked the man at all. He partially wanted just to offer to fling him out by the coattails of his fancy suit. Tess, however, might have objected to such a maneuver. "...Well, I'll keep things here," he offered as he began to gaze around the Lucky Lass, seeing the employees. There were women in their revealing clothing, a bartender working behind the shelf with bottles stacked behind him, a young boy sweeping the floors. So this, he thought, was where he would be earning his keep for the moment. "Don't you worry, Miss Tess. I love a good game of cards...I've been able to play to clean anyone out. How I got into all that trouble before." Well...

That was partially true. As far as it went.

When Cyril Bancroft sat, he let Tess fill his empty glass with what belonged to hers, sipping it as it now belonged to him. Such things were a perfect metaphor for the current situations, he found. He watched Tess, hearing her prattle on about rents and more, leaning back to sip at his drink as the conversation concluded.

"Nothing happens here that I don't hear of, Tess," he reminded her as he watched her close, never losing his smile. "Nothing at all. Remember that well....you are lucky so far, but luck is like oil. Eventually, you run out and need to tap a new well..." He gave a shrug. "But you're right, Tess. You've made quite the profit on this place. Enough for me to conider my own ill fortunes...I think you can afford an increase in rents, can't you?" His smile grew. "So can everyone else in fact, since the Lucky Lass is doing ever so well." He rose to his feet. "If you ever have any trouble, let me know. I'm sure we can work something out....and if anything's been hidden, well...it helps to know where the proverbial bodies are buried. Good day."


Alan was waiting as the man emerged, gathering his coat to leave. He hid his own feelings, waiting for Tess...and wondering to ask if he should toss the arrogant bastard out himself next time.

 

[Xanaphia]

"But you're right, Tess. You've made quite the profit on this place. Enough for me to consider my own ill fortunes...I think you can afford an increase in rents, can't you?" His smile grew. "So can everyone else in fact, since the Lucky Lass is doing ever so well."

That lily-livered son of a bitch! Tess just managed to bite her tongue –quite literally at this point– but nodded with grumble. Rent increase? Sure she could manage it, hopefully, but there went any chance she hoped for savings. Everyone else though? She didn’t know, and she couldn’t help but blame herself, at least a little.

Once Cyril was finally gone, Tess poured herself another glass of whiskey and drank it in a single swallow, if only to wash the bad taste he left in her mouth. No rest for the wicked, however, as she head back out to the bar, and made her way to Alan.

”Alright, with that unpleasantness out of the way, let me introduce you to the girls. That’s Betty,” she introduced, pointing to perky girl with jet black hair and big blue eyes. “And Peggy.” A tanned brunette in a low cut, cleavage baring dress. “And Rosa.” A Mexican woman with dark skin and dark eyes. “And this here is Alan. You girls give him a holler if you need any help, now.”

“What if we don’t need any help; can we still give ‘im a holler?” Peggy teased, leaning over a table to give him an eyeful of creamy cleavage.

“Not while he’s working. And not while you’re supposed to be working, neither,” Tess shot back with a smirk. She wasn’t usually too strict with the girls. It could be hard work, satisfying the hungers of an entire town, and woman willing to flatback weren’t too common out these parts. She needed to keep them happy, so they could keep her customers happy.

She glanced back to Alan, “Any questions?”

 

[Vinaein]

When Cyril departed, it was with a knowing grin, a man secure in the knowledge that 'government by the people and for the people' was only a distant dream that bore only the vaguest resemblance to the laws that the frontier lived by. Those who had made the laws, those who did not were bound to obey. Cyril Bancroft had the most and thus others were bound to obey. It might even inspire some animosity towards the Lucky Lass...when others found a hike in their own rents. but that was not Cyril's problem.

They'd pay or he'd see them out and replace them with those who could. That was the beginning and the end of the matter as far as he was concerned. In fact, he enjoyed Tess's anger, with how helpless it was. Cyril put his hat back on and clicked his tongue delicately. He did, after all, have other meetings.

Alan was awaiting Tess there, looking to the ladies, inclining his head towards them. If he had any bias towards them for gender or professions, he gave no sign of it. Instead, his grin was respectful, his hat tipped. "Ladies," he said with perfect politesse. His eyes roamed over the ladies just a bit. God, but it had been a while and if Peggy was eager on that matter...

Well, he was only human. "You heard the boss lady," Alan remarked playfully as his eyes roamed to Peggy's ample bust. "I'm only a holler away, don't you worry. Ain't nothing I won't be able to help ya wish."

At Tess, Alan gave a shrug. "Keep fellas in line, keep the ladies safe." He grinned suddenly. "If the fella in the fancy suit shows up, do I get to deck him one if he's bothering ya or would that be ill advised? He made sure to show he was merely joking. "All seriousness, ya fancy a drink and a talk about these here parameters, Miss Tess? Ain't nothing major, just wanna make certain I know some about the town. I'm still a stranger here after all."

 

[Xanaphia]

Tess didn’t miss the way his eyes lingered over Peggy. Peggy didn’t miss it either, based on the wink she gave him. Tess pushed it out of her mind. Wasn’t her business what adults did behind the privacy of a closed door. Well, no, it was actually the majority of her business, to be quite frank. But she didn’t need the details, in any case. And she had enough on her plate to worry about some cowboy who was down on his luck and easy on the eyes.

"If the fella in the fancy suit shows up, do I get to deck him one if he's bothering ya or would that be ill advised?” His smirk was playful, and infuriatingly handsome.

“It would be a might fine gesture, I’m sure, but it would also be a first-class ticket out on our asses.” It was her turn to smirk and shrug, as she took a place beside him at the bar. With a simple wave, she called the bartender over and he poured them each a glass of whiskey. “It’s what he deserves, but, unfortunately, folks with money so rarely get exactly what they deserve.” She capped off that sentence with a drink, washing down the bitter truths of their situation.

"All seriousness, ya fancy a drink and a talk about these here parameters, Miss Tess? Ain't nothing major, just wanna make certain I know some about the town. I'm still a stranger here after all."

Tess laughed, and motioned with her glass. “Well, the first thing you oughta know about this town is that nobody here is from here. Everybody’s got a past, and everybody’s got a reason to leave it behind.” She let that settle with another sip of whiskey. “It’s not so bad, though. Everyone deserves a chance to start over make something new of themselves.”

“Now, as far as your paramaters,” she started, putting a tipsy emphasis on ‘your’ “I got an extra room upstairs. It’s cozy, but it’s small. We, uh, don’t need much room, for the sorta work we do. You understand. It’s yours, for as long as you need it, and I can pay you $6 dollars a week. How does that sound?”

 

[Vinaein]

Alan really did love women. He especially loved beautiful women interested in him. When Peggy flashed a wink, he caught and returned it with one of his own. Okay, so he was something of an employee here and maybe the boss might have been discontent at him, the bouncer, maybe getting a mite unprofessional with one of the ladies. It was obvious, of course what their profession was. Did Alan mind? Hell no, good for them. People had to make a living however they could and this was just an honest one.

Though his attention returned to Tess. Alan was playful, but not disrespectful and serious, his handsome face accompanying his query with a lifted eyebrow. "Well, damn shame about buying that ticket. That fella's mouth's writing checks that my fist'd have a hankerin' to cash out." With the bartender giving some whiskey, Alan was all but sighing in pure rapture. He lifted his glass to toast Tess and knocked his drink back, feeling the pleasant burn down his throat. "What if I just jumped him in an alley, all secret like? He wouldn't know what hit him. Literally." He might be telling too much on just what he had done in the past, but he wasn't being hired for his morality.

If that weren't the truth on folk with cash, though. God, he wished he still had some on him. He thought he'd be getting rich before Flint and his boys had decided him a loose end, with the minerals in the hills. The mines, he thought...doubtless they'd be buying and selling the damn claim. "Ain't it the truth, though."

He listened with interest on news for the town; it was frankly as he had expected. This wasn't a town people were born and raised in, but a settlement. "Any folk born here, they settle with families or is this temporary?" He pressed, leaning over as he swirled amber liquid within his glass. "I could get behind makin' something new of oneself. Something we all probably have experience with." He saluted her with the drink again.

Christ, his own room? 6 dollars a week? Okay, so it was in a brothel, but hell if he cared right now. This was more than he could've hoped for. "I purchasing my own meals to go with it?" He asked with a grin. "Or is there a place one takes breakfast, lunch and supper?" He threw Peggy a playful wink. "I'll take the room in return for services. As for the work ya do...ain't no never mind of my own. Do what ya got to and what ya like, and let no man or woman say otherwise. I would say you have a deal and ask when I begin?"

And it gave him time to figure out the lay of the land, to choose something new and decide what to do next...the rangers wouldn't find him, he thought. Nor would Flint. And a good salary, honest wage...he gave Peggy a sly look. Well, maybe there'd be a good use for that salary when they were off the clock.

"Shake on it?" He offered her, putting his hand out. "Can rest assured, fellas better be treating these here ladies like ladies while I'm around."

 

[Xanaphia]

"Any folk born here, they settle with families or is this temporary?" He pressed, leaning over as he swirled amber liquid within his glass.

“Not too many families ‘round these parts. Hell, not too many women ‘round here, really. Whys we have a successful business, after all.” Tess laughed and finished off her glass, the whiskey warming her skin and flushing her cheeks. “Mostly it’s men looking for work, and a bit of freedom. Maybe somedays this’ll be a real town, but for now it’s just a stop along the way.”

Alan seemed pleased with her offer of compensation. "I purchasing my own meals to go with it?" He asked with a grin. "Or is there a place one takes breakfast, lunch and supper?"

“Oh we’ll fed ya here. ‘Course, if you want something fancy, you gotta buy or hunt it yourself. But I will pay a pretty penny if you bag a buck or bison, and cook you up a nice fat steak, if’n you like.” Still, he glanced over at Peggy, who shot him a wink and a smirk. Wasn’t hard to imagine what they were planning.

"Shake on it?" He offered her, putting his hand out. "Can rest assured, fellas better be treating these here ladies like ladies while I'm around."

She gripped his hand with a surprising strength. “I am well known for taking good care of those who step foot in my doors, Mr. Griffin. But if you ask around, you’ll also learn that I don’t suffer folks who dare to cross me and mine.” She held his hand and his gave for the span of three full heartbeats, until she was certain he understood her. Then she smiled, and stood, smoothing out her skirts and brushing back her hair.

“You can start about now,” she said, motioning with her chin towards the door, and the men filing in through it. “Looks like it’ll be a busy night.”

 

[Vinaein]

Alan wasn't much into passing judgement there. But he did know that the lack of women did not bode well for Independence Bluff. A town mostly of men and workers was more a job site than a proper town and without roots, it might well die in a few years to a decade. He sipped the whiskey, knocking a bit of it back to feel the pleasant burn. "Well, here's to the dream of a town," he remarked as he looked at Tess close. Well, what did she want? He couldn't help but wonder there for a moment. Was she content to remain proprietress of a brothel for her whole career? She clearly had sunk quite a lot into the Lucky Lass...

And that Cyril fella, with his rapacious eyes and banker smile. He had investments here in this town, didn't he? One didn't want to see places like that fail. "So the workin' girls service the workin' men?" He asked. "Three ladies for one town? Business must be a busy one. No judgement intended, ladies." He gave them all an approving grin and a few winks. Peggy's gaze was more than a little flirtatious...

Well, one had to do what one loved, Alan thought. He wasn't sure how one might enjoy the job here, but if they did, more power to them. Certainly it was more honorable a profession than some he'd been involved in himself. "I'm a fair hand with a rifle," he said, a statement of fact and not a boast. "Who usually does the cooking for the lovely ladies? Got a cook on premise or do you pluck the birds and grill 'em up yourself?" He gave Tess a winning grin. "Maybe I'll bring home a big ol' buck and see you carve a steak out of it. "

The strength she showed made him lift an approving eyebrow. Her boast was a good one and he doubted it was much an idle one. Men were walking through the door as Alan went to take his place at Tess's behest.

To his satisfaction, the fellows here seemed to know the ladies, who were greeting them cheerfully. He met Peggy's gaze, then Rosa's and Betty's, mouthing "later" to them with another wink that was greeted with sly looks from each of them. That was what day offs were for.

He wondered briefly if Lucas was still searching for him, not that he'd find him out here. And if the boys had missed their attempt to finish him off, if they'd just assume a cougar had dragged him off. He hoped so and that he was done with Micah Flint and his gang...

One tall miner was making overtures to Betty, who greeted him with a fluttering of eyelashes. Rosa seemed to get quite a bit of attention as well, with Alan keeping a close eye out...thankfully, he didn't need to cause any violence just yet...some of the fellows definitely seemed drunk enough, which apparently made the girls' jobs easier...

Still, he knew to keep an eye out...he had the feeling that Mr. Bancroft wasn't a man who liked being told no.

And sure enough, a distance away, Mr. Bancroft was sending out a line...sitting at his desk, he glanced to a man at the door, his smile beatific. "Tell Harry and Francis to come see me, Ned. I've got work for 'em."

 

[Xanaphia]

"Three ladies for one town? Business must be a busy one. No judgement intended, ladies."

“There’s four of us,” Tess reminded him hand on her hip and smile cocked on her face, “But it’s alright. I didn’t hire you for your math skills.”

The evening proved itself awfully busy. Three or four, it didn’t matter much– it wasn’t enough to satisfy an entire town. Not really. Sure, it meant they could stand to raise their prices, but desperate men could get ornery. The next few weeks would be a delicate balance, while she figured it out.

Still everyone was on their best behavior tonight, which was a nice change of pace. Feeling out the new guy, Tess supposed. Nobody knew, so nobody knew what he was capable of, and no one was particularly interested in finding out. It wouldn’t last long, Tess figured, but she’d enjoy it while she could.

Wasn’t till after midnight that business started winding down, and that’s only because that when she stopped serving folks. Drunken men staggered off into the night, and even Tess staggered a bit as she collected the dirty glasses littered throughout the saloon. Busy night indeed. She dumped the gather glasses into a suds filled basin in the kitchen, and started a large pot of hot water on the stove.

Once she finished wiping down the tables, she be about ready for a long soak in a hot bath. Maybe as a handsome man massaged her feet… and legs… maybe her back, too? Tess smirked, but kept the thought to herself. Way too early to start mixing business with pleasure.

Even if pleasure was her business.

 

[Vinaein]

"Ya don't say now," Alan added with his own smile spreading as he met Tess's eyes. "Beggin' your pardon, Miss Tess, didn't mean nothing by it. As the owner, I just figured you didn't involve yourself in work of that variety. Most ladies I'd known who owned 'establishments' don't." Not anymore, anyways. Hell, he respected her already as it was. Tess seemed to have a fair hand of things. Gorgeous, too, Alan thought as he couldn't quite resist that smile. "I'll keep a fair eye out, won't I?"

Wasn't much to it. He kept an eye around and kept to himself. He greeted the men around with a wink and a smile, proving himself a charming hand and quick with his eyes as well, making sure the ladies were respected. He was surprised there was only one brothel here...and more than that, Alan began to observe the townsfolk, to ensure he knew exactly what some of them were about.

Christ, he was paranoid. He half expected to see the others in those faces of the drunken and eager men whom the girls were sweet talking. It made his smile vanish briefly, his eyes roaming about...he needed a drink, but that might be a poor prospect to his long term employment now. Still, the ladies had their job well in hand. He simply walked through, trying to look like he was moving with purpose. The behavior was good, with sounds of soft giggles and moans coming from the rooms the ladies took the men to, coupled with low grunts and gasps.

Ladies were good at their job. Good for them, he thought. Still, it was something of a relief when things ended and men were sent on their way, Alan keeping his arms folded as he massaged his shoulders. Being on his feet so long had been quite the event, even as healed as he was. He saw Peggy walking down the stairs and cast her a wink. "Busy night?" He asked playfully, seeing her smirk in turn, Rosa fetching herself a drink of her own as she and Betty exchanged rather bawdy stories and giggles. Alan gave Tess a grin, moving to help her with the tables.

"Nice night?" He asked her. "With things settled, I can handle some of that clean up. You must be tired." What he wanted was a good drink and maybe a warm body for company, but it seemed rather churlish to ask.

And he couldn't exactly shake the damn feeling something was going to walk through that door before long.

 

[Xanaphia]

No one ended up approaching Alan tonight. All the women were professional seductresses, and likely preferred to be seduced, for once. Or they didn’t want to be in competition for the new man’s attention. If any of the women where disappointed that he hadn’t approached them, they hid it well. Tess, for her part, found herself partially relieved. What would it say about Alan if he’d taken the first opportunity that presented to jump in bed with one of them?

Instead he was gentlemen, even offering to clean off the tables at the end of the night. “I sorely do appreciate it,” Tess admitted, stretching wide with arched back. When he still didn’t take the bait, she hid her regret in a warm smile, “Think I am going take a bath then, before I head off to bed. Which is another service you can available yourself of, when you feel the need. No charge.”

By the time she headed back behind the bar, the water was hot enough for her. So she pulled out the tub, setting it up in the store room for a bit of privacy. The near boiling water bubbled and burbled as she poured it in the tub, mixing into soapy suds while she undressed. The water was nice, but there was definitely something missing.

Or someone? Tess chuckled at the thought, but couldn’t shake it out of her head how it might be nice to have someone take care of her, every now and again.

 

[Vinaein]

Alan couldn't help but notice after everything, the trio weren't giving him much more than politeness, maybe some flirting if he began first...but after the busy night, he couldn't blame them at all. He was wondering about Tess, suddenly fascinated by the mysterious saloon and brothel owner who worked the same job as her employees, without complaint and who seemed so menaced by that wealthy fellow who'd been there before. He cautioned himself, thinking it over...was it his problem/ No. Tess hadn't even saved his life. They were employee and employer, she paid him and gave him room and board. That was that, nothing further lay between them.

But that nagging feeling of gratitude and obligation refused to fade. Alan simply law the folks out, hearing Tess's intent for a bath. He didn't respond, only offering a smile and nod as he walked to the tables, scrubbing them down, helping to fix up anything spilled as Peggy and Rosa were laughing together, sharing some drinks, with Alan all but forgotten for a brief period. Alan shrugged to himself, hiding his own smile as he worked...

It might be drudgery, but it was honest work and there hadn't been a whole lot of that through his connection to Micah Flint, damn him and damn that entire network of cutthroat cruelty, all that brutality and treachery. All that darkness... He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror, the wound under his shirt having left a scar, one he'd carry till the end of his days.

He flinched, drawing a concerned look from Peggy as Alan waved a hand. But Peggy's smile was knowing, despite his dismissive gesture. Of course, a woman like that would know to read men, it would be expected. But Peggy flicked her head in the direction where Tess had gone, a clandestine wink passing.

Alan felt cold again, sudenly lonely. He was trapped here, with the kindness of these women helping him...he owed them more than he could proper say, didn't he? He stood, finished as he made his way down, step after step...until he reached the room, letting the door creak open. "You...feeling alright, Miss Tess?" A bit more hesitant than his usual confidence and poise, but the smile he now wore was gentle. "Hope the night weren't too tough...I got everything cleaned...just wanted to see you were doing alright there. Needed someone to scrub your back?"

Lord, he wouldn't blame her if she tossed him out on his ear, but something was keeping him there. "Just looks like you've been working har there...keeping this place up'n running...and..." he shrugged. "More I can do for you, the better."