He watched her through the plated glass of the saloon. She lifted her skirt to her ankles and trotted out across the road. People were busying the streets. Coming and going, this way and that, no one seemed to be paying much attention to others. Unless they were in their way, of course. It crossed his mind to approach her. He thought better of it, so he observed from afar.
Her dark hair fell in ringlets down her back and her hazel eyes were eager and fixed. Her long green dress flowed over her bodice and lace appeared from her sleeves and around her neckline. What was she doing here? More importantly what was she here for? This was becoming more of a job.
She glanced up and down the walkways then entered the shop. From where he sat, opposite the street from her, he knew there was going to be trouble.
The man beside him groaned, "Pretty young thing isn't she? A good look-see. Who do you reckon she is?"
He stole a glance over the man, he was wearing a pair of boots that had a hole in the side but was so caked with dirt you couldn't tell it. His pants fell, in a rather off putting way, where one was tucked inside the boot and the other was not. An old worn out plaid untucked work shirt looked like it was hanging on by the threads. On top of his dirt covered face and missing teeth was a holey, thread barren cowboy hat that clearly looked bent out of shape. He grunted, tossed back his whiskey then chocked out, "Trouble."
