A/N: This is just a little test. If you (whoever still stalks this fandom) like it, I'll keep going. Otherwise, this little prologue was all for not. Thanks to Chrystal, who brought this idea to the party, and allowed me to write it down.
Anyone can review, and I strongly request that you do.
Heat rose in waves on the horizon, and dust was kicked up in small gusts. Ben Wade paid no heed to the climate of New Mexico, having grown well accustomed to it over long years of travelling between the territories of New Mexico, Arizona, and across the border to Old Mexico. His hand drifted in precise strokes, effectively capturing the likeness of an old man who sat on the next bench. The outlaw cut his eyes over to the man, whose jaw hung slack, catching flies, while his body shook with heavy snores. Ben snorted at the man and looked far down the railroad. The train still hadn't come around the bend. Huffing a bit, he stood, and walked around the side of the weathered depot. A wheezing little clerk sat inside, surrounded by a pile of papers. Ben ignored him. After pacing the depot a few times, he sighed, still unable to hear the train. Ben sat back on the bench, and looked down the walk as he heard tiny footsteps on the wooden porch.
A tiny darkheaded girl with large, clear eyes looked up at him expectantly, clutching a small, yellowed paper to her chest. Her dress was torn and filthy, its color faded drastically and barely reaching past her knees. Her black hair was matted and tangled, almost as pitiful as her dress. The only thing particularly remarkable about the child was her emerald eyes, flecked with golden-brown. She looked up at him with those eyes wide but unafraid and asked for his attention in a small voice.
"Mister?"
Ben raised an eyebrow at the child.
She pulled the paper away from her chest and examined it a moment, looking up at him occasionally, and for a brief moment Ben thought it might have been a wanted poster. He took a half step back from the girl, looking for her parents. She certainly hadn't been here earlier. Ben saw nothing but a burro that had near been run into the ground.
"Is t'is you?" the girl asked, and turned the paper around.
Ben's breath hitched and he fought the barest of blushes from appearing on his cheeks. Then he growled low. The picture had been drawn about five years ago by a sporting woman in west Texas, an artist like himself. He had demanded the whore burn the picture- it made him look too... soft. Ben stared at a younger version of himself, lying stomach down, buck-ass nude, and asleep, face turned to the side.
"Where'd you get that, kid?" he demanded, glaring down at the kid.
The girl took his answer for a 'yes', and squealed, wrapping her sunburnt little arms tight around his legs. Her next five words made hell freeze over, made his heart stop, and his blood to still in his veins.
"Daddy! I finally found you!"