The drifter entered the town at noon, high noon, sitting proudly astride a chestnut mare that cantered with all the elegance of one used to carrying another's burden. The dusty streets were deserted as the sun beat down relentlessly, melting any who were not wise enough to seek temporary shelter in the shadowy confines of a building. There were no trees, their never were, trees refused to grow in the barren wasteland in which the town resided. With the soft clicking of tongue to teeth, the drifter turned the horse towards the local saloon, the loud raucous noise from within, greeting the drifter's ears long before the horse got close. Tying the animal's reins to the post attached to the saloon's porch, the stranger rubbed the beast's side a moment before turning and entering through the swinging wooden doors. The room was full, every seat in the house occupied by a body, not that the drifter wanted to sit, having been atop a horse for the past week. Dark eyes surveyed the room before heading towards the counter. The drifter spoke with a voice that rumbled quietly across to the bartender, "Gimme the strongest drink you've got." The tender didn't reply, just filled up a dirty mug with a murky brown liquid, plopping it down in front of the stranger. With a slight nod of the head, money was exchanged, the drifter then turning to lean against the bar's edge, sandy brown cowboy hat pulled low to shield a weather beaten face.
"Willam I've already told you no!" A voice rang through the clamor of the room, reaching ears of one who had just rolled into town. "I ain't interested in anything you might be tryin' to offer me!"
"Sweetie, I ain't tryin' to offer you nothin'." The man talking bellowed a laugh. "I'm just gonna be givin' it to ya anyway. You ain't even gotta thank me later."
"I said no!"
Throwing back the liquor, a welcome relief to a parched throat, the stranger pushed away from the counter, and began walking with slow, measured steps towards the woman and man. They both turned towards the approaching footsteps, surprised expressions plastered on both their faces. The woman took the opportunity to wrench her arm free from the grasp of the obviously drunk man, causing him to stumble back a step with a loud curse, bringing the cacophony of sound to a halt. Penetrating brown eyes met his bleary green. "Sir," the word flowed like lethal honey from the drifter's mouth, "suh", the drifter had said, "Unless my hearing stands in need of some checking, I do believe the lady here has denied your advances." Sharp eyes looked Willam up and down, causing an uncomfortable feeling of foreboding to settle into the pit of his stomach. "I reckon it may be wise for you to gon' ahead and leave her alone."
"The hell I will." Willam slowly recovered, standing to his full height towering over the drifter, his breath smelling of stale beer. "You ain't got no say in this; you ain't even from around here."
A menacing smile twisted the stranger's face, brown eyes grew darker, giving them the appearance of nearly being black. A hand removed the tan hat, a auburn ponytail fell free, falling past shoulder, the smile softened some around the edges when those browns met electrifying blues, and something…happened. "Ma'am," the question was directed to the stunned woman whose golden hair shone in the dimly lit room. "Would you mind holdin' onto my hat for a moment?" Shaky hands took the offered hat with a nod. "Thank ya kindly."
"You're just a woman!" Willam exclaimed, "Ain't nobody gonna be scared of you!"
"Sir, did your momma ever tell you that you was real smart? I know what I am." She drew ivory pistols from holsters beneath her long coat, spinning them around with a flourish, tossing them into the air before catching them, a dangerous look in her eyes as she leveled them at Willam. "I also know I ain't from 'round here, but where I am from, forcing yourself upon a woman," the pistols lowered to his crotch, "is cause for immediate, on the spot, castration.
Willam visibly paled, all the blood in his body rushing towards his feet. "You wouldn't do that--"
"Naw, sir, I wouldn't." Her jaw tightened and he saw the restraint she was employing to keep from destroying his manhood. "Yet. I guess it's a good thing I got to you before ya did something stupid, wouldn't you think." She placed the guns back into place beneath the folds of her coat.
Willam looked around the room, seeing all the faces watching, knowing that beneath the puzzled and impressed expressions they held, they were all silently laughing at him for being shown up by some stranger woman. Anger simmered beneath the surface, but he knew better than to show it now, save it for later. "I reckon it's a good thing you did." He turned on his heel, exiting the saloon, plotting his revenge as he made his way down the dusty road
"Thank you…"
The drifter turned back to the blonde woman, her face pleasant but shielded. "Wasn't no trouble."
"Spencer. Spencer Carlin, that's my name I mean, I just…" she stopped talking, a slight blush tinting her features, wondering why this other woman unnerved her so. A small smile tugged at the corners of the drifter's mouth, before she took back her hat, settling it down on her head, pulled low so as to cover her eyes, with a nod of her head, she too left the saloon. Spencer stood there a moment, dazed as the noise within the room slowly returned to normal, before she made a decision, bounding through the front doors, nearly falling down the steps, her feet becoming tangled in her skirt. "Wait!" The other woman spun around, expressionless, and once again their eyes met. Spencer felt her breath catch in her throat, her hand flew to her chest as though she were trying to keep her heart from flying through. "Do you have somewhere to go? I mean, a place you can stay?"
"I'll be alright ma'am." She began to turn away again.
"I just want some way to repay you. I've got a small farm just outside of town."
"You got a farm?" Spencer was already falling in love with the gentle lilt in the other woman's speech, how she replaced all of her 'r's with soft 'h's. "You got any horses on this farm?"
Spencer was puzzled by the question and her face showed it. "Well, yes, yes I do."
An easy smile broke across the woman's face, a sunrise all her own. "Then I accept your offer, allowing me to stay tonight, but I need you to take in my horse, permanently, if that won't be to much trouble on you."
Spencer thought she'd agree to anything if it kept her in this woman's presence longer. "I'll take your horse, but why?"
She motioned with her hand, wanting Spencer to follow her to the horse, rubbing a hand down the mare's side once they were both standing next to her. She turned her gaze to Spencer, locking her in place. "The lady's old, and I ain't gonna put her down, but I want her to have a little taste of the easy life before she goes, not always dragging me along."
Spencer nodded gentle understanding. "She's beautiful, what's her name?"
A wry grin appeared on the brunette's face. "Jusgit."
Spencer frowned, "Jus…git…I'm not sure I understand."
"Ain't really that much too understand, 'cept that when I got her I didn't know a lick about riding horses, controlling them with your legs and all, and I'd just get frustrated and yell 'jus' git' trying to get the damned girl to move, and soon after that she started responding to 'jus' git' like it was her name. So that's what I call her now…Jusgit."
Spencer threw back her head in laughter, "You can't be serious."
"I am."
Wiping a few stray tears from her eyes, and calming herself, she shook her head as she stared at the woman in front of her, "Please tell me your name isn't as funny as that."
"Naw, I wouldn't think it'd be. Davies, well it ain't my first name, that's Ashley, but living the kinda life I do, you can't have people thinking you're soft just 'cause you got a girl name, so I go by Davies." Davies stopped talking then, scuffing her boot against the ground. "You cook good?"
"Never gotten any complaints. Matter of fact, I've got some beans, bacon, okra and cornbread I can whip you up at home."
"That sounds mighty fine. I ain't had no decent meal in awhile." She held out her hand, indicating that Spencer should lead the way, the thought of a belly full of warm food already making her stomach grumble.
