The Outlaw

Chapter 2

     The sound of lively music intermingled with drunk chatter could be heard long before Jane's feet reached the steps to the saloon. She dreaded the crowded atmosphere, specifically the drunk men that could be found within. Pondering how many of them shared the same sick ideas as Annie's former no-good husband. She then scowled at the thought of any more innocent women dying at the hands of inebriated pigs. A missed key on the piano disrupted her budding anger, and without a moment's hesitation, the pianist resumed the lively tune as if no wrong had been made.

At a quick glance, the dust coated brown boards held stories older than Jane herself. Riddled with splintered bullet holes, cracked boards that didn't look to have been nailed up together. There were letters carved into the crevices as well as a few mysterious and questionable stains. Jane doubted they were any stories in the wood worth much recalling, but interesting nonetheless to wonder about. Who had crept up these old, crumbling stairs prior to Jane? She reached out her fingers to brush across the wall prudently, getting a feel for the dents and notches as she approached the looming doorway.

Before she could reach the smoke imbued entrance, two figures came barreling out of the frame, nearly taking it from its hinges. Their bodies were entangled, their chapped lips curating a cacophony of grunts and curses that were embellished by their swinging limbs. Jane knew it as soon as she saw it.

A good ole' fashioned bar brawl, she thought, and her lips crawled into a smile.

The pungent smell of blood, beer, and piss permeated the air quickly once the men were in Janes near proximity, and she stepped back with her upturned lips twitching at the stench. Jane had always loved to watch the way men fight. So feral, so angry, but there was always an unspoken set of rules.

Never go for the family heirlooms, never pull the hair, and never insult their mother. It was almost laughable how they managed to uphold such chivalry for each other while immersed in the most passionate of battles. She watched on with amusement.

Both men struggled to gain an upper hand on the other, being rather similar in stature. A misplaced jab had the slightly larger man on top seeming to have found an opening. The larger man went reaching in for one last pummel to the smaller fella's face when all-a-sudden, a large, big-brassiered woman came roaring out of the doors with a worse-for-wear shotgun in hand, screaming,

"Ya'll better be off this porch and far away from this s'loon before I count to 10, or I swear to high heaven I will shoot a nice big hole in yer' ugly faces!"

Now Jane didn't know who this woman may be, or what she had done, but those few words was all it took for the men to go scrambling, and the rest of the onlookers to scurry off.

Jane remained just outside with curious fascination, her eyes locked on to the feisty woman. She was large, unsightly, but remained perfectly done-up, if you could denote it as such, despite the weather and aforementioned events, her dress cut low at the chest, her straw-colored hair pulled back in tight curls. The woman took her eyes off of the retreating men and focused them on Jane, giving her a once-over from head to toe, then raising her eyebrow in wary interest,

"M'name's Karen, and you look like god-damn horse shit. May I ask what you might be doin' here at my saloon?"

Jane chuckled at the woman's blunt nature, finding it a refreshing company to that of meek ladies and ignorant men, before replying,

"Jon by the keep sent me, said you might have a place for me t'rest, and I could do with some food and a drink".

Karen smiled at the mention of a townsfolk she knew, before waving Jane to follow her on in, shaking her head at the dirt covered woman trailing behind her. Karen knew that Jane needed a lot more than just food and drink, but elected to keep that sentiment to herself, trusting that Jon wouldn't send anyone she couldn't handle her way.