Guns, Jewels, and Choccy Milk

Chapter One: Choccy Milk

Val walked into the bar, right up to the counter.

"Give me a choccy milk."

The bartender looked at them.

"I'm sorry, but there is no such thing as choccy milk." He said. "Maybe you mean-"

Val grabbed him in a choke hold. He struggled for a bit, then looked down at them. Val looked up and looked him dead in his dark blue eyes.

"Yes. There. Is."

The man's eyes widened. Val's grip tightened.

"Give me," Val commanded, slowly releasing their grip. "A choccy milk."

They dropped the bartender, who crawled behind the counter and pulled out a glass. He poured the dark chocolate syrup into the cup and filled it with milk. He stirred the drink several times and then pushed it across the table.

"Uh... 50 cents, ma'am."

In one swift move, the hand was back around his neck. He pleaded with Val,

"Please! Can we make it 40 cents?"

The grip did not loosen.

"30 cents?"

Nothing.

"How about free?"

Val looked up slowly.

"Free?" The barman repeated, hopefully.

"What did you call me?" Val asked.

"Uh, ma'am?"

The grip tightened.

"You tell me that choccy milk isn't a thing, you assume my gender, AND you charge me 50 cents for a drink? I think you deserve what I like to call," Val smirked, "death."

The barman shook his head, and started to struggle even more. Val saw a tear on his cheek.

"Oh, did I scare you?" Val mocked. They laughed, dropped the man, took out their gun, and shot him.

They slurped up the choccy milk, and took a look around. The other gangs had probably already been here. There was a spot where the wood wasn't the same color as the rest of the wall, the right size and shape for a painting to have been. Val spotted a staircase and went upstairs. They saw a small barrel in the corner and a bed. Upon opening the barrel, they discovered a dirty shirt, a pair of pants, a loaf of bread, and, aha!, a sheet of green calico. Val picked up the bread and bit into it. It was at least three days old, but it wasn't moldy, so they tossed it into their satchel, along with the calico. In their satchel there was a lipstick with a small blade hidden in it, some spare bullets, and a small flask for water.

Val walked down the stairs and out of the bar. There were a few houses here, a saloon, and a water pump. They filled their flask with clear water and started towards the covered wagon in the middle of the town square. As they walked, they saw that most of the houses were empty. Occasionally they would see a flicker of a curtain. People checking to see if it was safe, probably. This tiny town was in the center of many of the wealthier towns out in the west. Precious gems were mined here, jewelry and bullets were made, and all of this made it obvious that most gangs would ransack these towns, especially the smaller ones, where there was no sheriff to stop them.

Val came to the wagon, and hopped inside.

"I told you, Quinn. Why do the work when it could be done for us?"

"I don't understand!"

Sofia looked up from a dress she was mending.

"Val! Did you find the lace I needed?" She asked.