Queen of the Cowboys

Through the Queen's Eyes

Kristine really hated this part of her job, especially when it happened in front of her younger sister, but she had come to find that it was a necessary part of her job.

The body hit the floor with a thud and a spray of blood. Mr. Thompson's last words being of the begging variety were fitting for the urchin that he was. If Kristine had asked if he had any final words, as she sometimes did when she was feeling particularly generous, then he might have used it in some futile attempt at flirting, as he had been doing since he joined her camp all those weeks ago.

But Kristine knew herself and knew she was not the kind of woman to be swayed at the prospect of a man giving her attention and kind words. It had never been a desire of hers, not when her parents tried to set her up in an arranged marriage to that Fletcher boy years ago, and certainly not now. She found love in sunbaked earth, long rides, and the stars in the sky. Not in men.

"C'mon," she said to Nancy. "Let's get cleaned up and you back to Lanore Hills. I'm sure Andrew'll be missing you by now."

Nancy waved her off, grabbing a couple of napkins from behind the counter. "He's a big boy, he can handle himself for the next few days. I want to be there when you take Chicago, sissy."

Kristine smiled to herself. Rare was it these days for any genuine casualness, what with most people approaching her with barely contained awe or outright fear of the Queen of the West. No matter how prolific her title as Queen became, Nancy always called her by her childhood nickname. Her exploits, though well-known and oftentimes bloody, didn't seem to faze Nancy. When she ran west the year after Kristine left, she barely batted an eye, accepting this as a new normal in her life, and even offering her help when she could.

"Besides," Nancy continued, "a woman's touch could come in handy placating that grouch Archambeau."

"In case you forgot, there are women at my command as well."

"Yes, but none quite as persuasive as me."

Kristine sighed. Nancy was persistent when she wanted something. The women cleaned up and left the saloon, leaving behind the body of a man who had gotten in over his head, illusions of grandeur and the lucky circumstance of his birth having made him think he was capable of more than he truly was.

Walking among her celebrating cowboys, soldiers, and friends, Kristine couldn't help but feel immense pride. In herself for pulling these free agents and outlaws and runaways together, and in them for their loyalty and the rewards they were able to reap.

On the eve of her greatest triumph, she found herself thinking of that first night when the idea of making something bigger first took root in her mind.

Kristine had always known she had what it took to survive by herself in the West. She was tough and a quick study, picking up skills by watching her father and his friends from the windows of their big house. Yet, it was still a test when she did manage to make it to the plains.

A week on her own and she'd managed to steal a knife, a gun, and a horse, three essential tools to her survival. She thought to try her luck making it out to California, but when she came across a scared girl a few years younger than her by the name of Jess, her plans changed.

Jess was running from the law for charges of petty theft, nothing Kristine hadn't done herself since her travels started. At that time, Kristine knew enough that the officers were coming down harder on her because of her dark skin, which the wanted posters seemed to emphasize. She wasn't looking to get anyone caught, wasn't looking to help anyone out either, but when she physically bumped into Jess running away with officers on her tail, she couldn't walk away.

Two officers, two bullets, and two dozen witnesses who corroborated the story. Without thinking, Kristine pulled Jess behind her on the horse, and they rode away, firing off warning shots for anyone who got any ideas about following them. Before that moment, Kristine hadn't necessarily been lost, but she didn't have an idea of what she was going to do with her life past riding west to escape her parents. But the feeling of helping Jess, the gratitude she expressed, and the fact that she wouldn't leave Kristine alone got her thinking she could actually help people. From the stories she'd heard, sharpshooters ran the West, and there wasn't a sharper shooter than Kristine.

She shook herself from the memory, heading for her inn room as Nancy peeled off to join the festivities. Cowboys could be a rowdy, rambunctious group, even more so at their bacchanalian celebrations after a long time on the road, but they knew better than to mess with the Queen's little sister if they knew what was good for them.

Having tied up the last loose end before tomorrow's raid and takeover, Kristine retired early to the sounds of a town full of her people celebrating their victories. Anything could happen, but if all went according to plan, there would be plenty of time to celebrate tomorrow and from a new seat of power.