Make My World Go Black

Prologue

"Let me get this straight. You want ALL of the land. Not a portion of it."

The scruffy beard of the man was aimed in all directions, as Matilda noticed. From her spot at the table across from him, he looked to be in his mid-thirties. He had the tendency to sweat whenever he was nervous, not because of the heat, as she's been told. His fingers tapped against the wood while flicking his eyes at hers every once in awhile, then quickly goes back to avoiding them. She had her arms and legs crossed, leaning back more comfortably in her chair than her friend was. Her hat dipped over her long light brown hair and covered her bright eyes, the dark shade of the room with little light made him incapable to read what those eyes read. A mischievous smile graced her lips. She was enjoying how much she made the man nervous with her odd jeans and vest, a look not many women wear in these parts.

"That's what I said."

"I'm afraid I can't do that for you."

"And why's that?" She tilts her head, her tongue darts out to lick her lips, a glint of entertainment in her eyes.

"Well, I-!"

"I have the right amount of money you've had offered to everyone else. What makes this time so different?"

"Well, because-!"

"Because I'm a woman?"

His whole form stiffens and his lips tighten into a straight line. Surprisingly, Matilda is completely comfortable, despite the silence and chuckles in amusement, "Mister, please, tell me something I've haven't been told before."

"Now now, I never said a woman couldn't own property." He finally gains the strength to stand up for himself, still not working up enough courage to do anything but stutter, however, "A ton of women do! It's just that...those women who do own land, usually get it passed down from their dead husbands. And since you're no longer married and because your dead husband didn't own any land-!"

If he wasn't uncomfortable with how laid back and understanding she seemed, he definitely was now after her eyes suddenly squint in acknowledgment and irritation to that comment, "I was divorced before he was killed. I ain't no widow." Her tone flattens.

"Y-Yes miss."

"So here's how I'm going to persuade you, Mr. Dickens." She draws out the last word, almost like an insult.

"M-My name is Mr. Darwin-!"

There's a familiar click from underneath the table and the man almost lets out a meek squeal of fright, the whole room felt as if it had gone silent. Matilda's lips twitch up into a sadistic smile as she pulls out a gun from underneath the table, "I don't pull the trigger, and you don't lose those future children of yours, how's that sound?"

No other words needed to be said as Mr. Darwin finally pulls out a paper an pen, and in response she flips her hair behind her shoulder, sighing and smiling kindly out of satisfaction as if the last couple of seconds never even happened. "Thank you," she spoke sincerely and signs the contract.

She steps out of the stuffy cabin a few moments later, standing outside the door as a laugh threatens to spill out as she replayed the look on his face in her mind. She shook her head in humorous disbelief and tucks the slip of paper into her pants.

"Did you set another deal in stone?"

She turned her head to the right to find a small, odd group of three people in hats standing at the edge of the porch, one, in particular, wearing all black gear and a sparkling smile caught her eye, and she smiles back in delight, "Sam Chisolm, as I live and breathe!"

The dark-skinned warrant officer laughs as she runs up to tackle him in a hug, his arms easily wrap all the way around her. They embrace for only a few moments and exchange a few laughs while they look over each other, seeing the age of how long it's been since they've seen each other through their eyes.

"Why do you keep buying land all over the countryside, Miss Crawford?" He asks with a smile and curiosity.

She acknowledges with a shrug, "To show my superiority of course. Not many expect a woman to be one of the richest people in the state. And besides, if I don't want it, I'll sell it. And I'll just gain all my riches back."

Sam laughs full-heartedly and gently grabs her shoulder and turns, extending his arm out to his two acquaintances behind him.

"This here is Vasquez,"

The other only man simply nods at his name, a cigar between his teeth. Matilda observes his Mexican features and has to bite back a laugh at the sight of his spurs at the heels of his boots. He had to be the only man she knew to wear those. They cause quite the sound, and from the look of his vigilant stance as he's leaning away from her and leaning against the railing, darting his eyes out to see if anyone noticed him, Vasquez is a man who doesn't wish to be found or heard of.

"And Emma Cullen," Sam finishes while pointing over to the only other woman, who reaches out to shake Matilda's hand, her worn, messy braided red hair dips over and spools over her shoulder as she did so.

"Ma'am." Matilda sternly greets and smiles while shaking her hand.

"She hired me, and I figured we could use someone like you." The warrant officer claps his hand on her shoulder again with a hint of pride in his voice.

"Say no more, any friend of Sam Chisolm is a friend of mine," Matilda says gently with the widest grin.

Vasquez scoffs, pointing his finger at Sam and Matilda, grinning cruelly through his scowl. "You forgot to mention to her how dangerous it will be, cabrón."

Matilda decides to ignore that comment, since she and Sam both know she could shoot that damn cigar out of that damn outlaw's mouth without hurting him, and continues to smile at Emma, "Now what exactly are we doing, Miss Emma?"

"Missus. And we're avenging the death of my husband by killing the man who shot him and took over our town." Her voice shook as she spoke sternly, but there was still fire behind it.

Matilda finds herself smiling softly in sympathy towards the other woman, and straightens her posture while leaning her hands over the two guns on either side of her hip, "I'm in. There's no need for persuasion here. That's my job anyway. If there's one thing I hate most in this world, it's a rich son of a bitch who thinks he's better than anyone else."

"Persuasion? Qué?" Vasquez pushes himself from leaning over the railing and cautiously takes a step forward, "Mierda! I know who you are...you're who people call Miss Persuasion!"

She grins, "At your service."