Music rang throughout the Rusty Nail Saloon as a teenage girl walked out on stage. All was quiet for a moment as the music started up, and moments later, the girl's voice rang out smoothly. No one present could tear their curious eyes away from her beauty as she continued her melody.

"Star light, star bright. First star I see tonight. I wish I may, I wish I might, please have this wish I wish tonight. If I wish upon a star, can I have what I wish for? Star light, star bright. Please make my dreams come true, for I believe that anything is possible…it's possible. If my heart believes it, too." The young girl was the image of a show girl in her red and white laced corsette, accenting her figure delicately.

As she floated around the stage gracefully and occasionally came down to the floor, men made crude comments toward her concerning her figure. She was no stranger to the attention, yet every time one of them touched her, she felt sick to her stomach.

When the song was ended at last, the room of mostly drunken men burst into applause. Smiling, she took her bow, pretending she enjoyed all the attention she was receiving before exiting the stage. She could hear her uncle as she walked back to her dressing room which doubled as a bedroom. She sat down upon the old, wooden chair and stared into her own gorgeous, yet saddened, eyes.

She brushed her long, brown curls slowly, her mind obviously elsewhere. She was far too young to be a showfulr at a saloon, being only fifteen, and yet here she was. Her uncle owned the joint, or at least the lower level. The top was owned by a very sweet woman named Medda, who had grown to be very fond of the young child. She helped her out fairly often, doubling as her uncle's extra showgirl when her own joint was closed at night.

Uncle Harry had been Lucy's gaurdian for quite sometime now, and therefore, the only way she could eat was by obeying his orders. At fifteen, Harry exploiting the under age girl was most definitely illegal, yet because of her mature figure and attitude, no one ever suspected she was a day under eighteen. She had dreamed of running away, but her fear was that her father would be unable to locate her once he returned from Sante Fe.

Yes, her father had left this young, beautiful girl all alone in Manhattan, New York. She had once lived outside of town where Michael, her older brother, taught her how to fight and use a gun. Those were the good days, when things were simple and people were good-hearted.

One day while Lucy and her family were in town, a couple of bank robbers rode in and held up the small bank. It had been a small town to begin with, nothing like the great city of New York. Being the only hope, Michael tried to put an end to the robbery, which resulted in a bullet to his chest. She ran to him, desperately crying out for mercy as she watched her best friend's life fade from his face. Life would never be the same, and neither would she.

She had quit school to help her mother by washing clothes to make a dime or two, for she had grown too depressed to work any longer. Their father, a man of great pride and wisdom, had grown distant and hardly ever spoke a word in their small shack. Every day it grew worse, Lucy trying to hold her family all on her own, until one day Mother simply gave up. The little girl returned from the general store to find her strung up in the barn.

This, in turn, grieved papa greatly and he decided it was time to leave the cursed home and try to start a new life in Sante Fe, the place of new beginnings. He had left her a note, explaining this and promising his little girl, his last loved one, that he would come back someday, hopefully soon, and reclaim her. He also left a silver chain holding a small charm in the shape of a horse shoe, to remind her of him in Sante Fe and bring her good luck. Needless to say, the good luck part was a farse.

Perhaps the hardest part of all of this had been that neither parents had cared how she felt, how hurt and lost she had been. No one offered comfort after Michael was killed and papa had definitely not considered her when Mama killed herself, packing his bags and riding into the sunset. It wasn't fair for her to have to carry all of the grief on her shoulders, but it was life. Lucy never complained a bit, she loved her papa. She missed him greatly.

There was one other person to whom she could go and that was her sweet, old grandfather. She could still see his gentle face in her scarred mind, she could still hear him calling her "Sugar Plum" instead of Lucy, claiming he had never like that name in the first place. That memory always brought a smile to her lips, but it faded knowing that Uncle Harry would never allow for her to see him again. She had been forbidden to so much as leave the saloon, and grandfather had since moved to a different home whose location she was unaware of.

"Lucy!" There was a pound on the door that ripped her thoughts away. Without waiting for a reply, the door flew open and a rather husky man stormed in.

"Uncle Harry, what's a mattah?" The girl turned to look at him quizzically, knowing it couldn't be good news.

"What's takin' ya so long? I've got payin' customahs out theah waitin' foah ya soivices! Now get!" He demanded impatiently, pointing to the door.

"Oh, Uncle Harry! Please don't make me!" Lucy begged her unmerciful uncle with tears threatening to spill, but not daring.

"Now!" He stormed back out, slamming the door in his rage. She turned to face the hourglass figure in the mirror once more, cursing it. It was so unfair, and she hated her uncle every second for it. He beat her and touched her just as every other man in the saloon did, only it hurt worse when it was him. Why didn't papa come sooner? Why didn't her grandfather come and find her? No matter what Lucy thought, she knew what she had to do and set out to do it.