Harriet Appleyard lives a quiet and privileged life. Desperate to escape her father, she seeks the help of an infamous gang of gunslinging outlaws. Newfound freedom raises new prospects for Hallie as well as hurdles. And how does one define morals...
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Early 1899
She had lost count of which day it was. The days blended together like her paintings when she mixed too many colors in the attempt to create the perfect blue.
"Harriet, for the love of God. Straighten your posture," her stepmother, Victoria, charmed. Hallie never understood why her father took her as a wife. Sure she had a pretty face, but that was just about it. No talents. No kindness. No charms. She didn't even come from a wealthy family. She worked in the local saloon when her father met her.
"Stop whining, Vicky, and leave me alone." Hallie looked up from her book, "Is that food between your teeth?"
Victoria hurried to a mirror, her face scrunched up in a worried grimace. She turned around to meet Hallie's eyes, angry and defeated when she realized that she tricked her.
"Not funny. With that behavior, you will never be able to get yourself a husband." She huffed as she pointed her finger at Hallie, superciliously.
"A husband, hah? I'm not ever gonna find anyone good enough for that." Throwing her feet up on the coffee table in front of her.
Victoria exhaled dramatically, clearly bugged by the young woman. She wanted her married away and out of the house.
"You can at least freshen yourself up for dinner and put on a dress. Your father has guests coming over."
"Guests? What Guests?"
"Uh, some business associates probably." Victoria never cared who came over, but she sure liked dressing up and ordering the maids and helpers around.
Hallie admitted defeat, closed her book, and made her way up the grand stairwell, happy to escape Victoria's presence.
She rested her head on her hand as her eyes roamed the closet for the perfect dress. Her lips tugged into a big smile, resembling that of the Cheshire Cat, as she found a dress with the perfect amount of cleavage that would drive Victoria completely mad. She tightened her corset and slipped on the black silk dress, moving to the mirror to make sure everything was in place. It was, she smiled at herself in the mirror. It wasn't the fanciest dress, but it was the one that made her feel the most powerful. The fact that it made her feel sexy was just a plus.
She tugged her long dark locks in a quick up-do, pinched her cheeks to redden them, and decided that she was ready to piss the hell out of Victoria at dinner.
She smugly strolled down the stairs, caressing the railing. She heard the determined steps of Victoria coming closer and erupting in a gasp as their eyes met. Just as Victoria opened her mouth to object, Hallie's father entered the room. The sunlight from the rose window, making the little hair he had, appear in all sorts of colors.
Alfred Appleyard was one of the most powerful men in Saint Denis. Yes, Appleyard. His tall and slender figure and kind face could deceive you into believing that he was a nice man. Alfred came from a family of bankers, so naturally, he became one himself. His father's position in the inner circle of Saint Denis made it easy for Alfred to take his spot when he passed away. Since then, he had been head for all banks in the state and had made a name for himself within the aristocratic society of Saint Denis. He was the sole person with the best connections in Lemoyne. Even with that ridiculous last name.
