A/N: This is an imagined prequel to the Al/Trixie pairing, set some years before 1876, the "Deadwood" years. This picks up a few years after "Miseries and Familiars" ends.

I own nothing, all is HBO's, David Milch's , or history's creations. Some fictitious characters are based on composites of historical figures.

Warnings for violence, graphic description of violent facial wounds, pimp/prostitute dynamics, language, implied euthanasia, casual sex (non-explicit).

Making Their Way

There was a time when traveling sounding like something grand, seeing new things, new people. That was before she ever went anywhere. Sometimes she wondered if he stirred shit up just to have an excuse to be on the move again.

She felt her trick moving faster now. She looked over his shoulder at the clock on the battered dresser. If he'd hurry up and finish, she could wash up and grab some dinner before the good pieces got gone. She started scratching at his back, alternating between saying "Oh, God" and "Oh, yeah" in his ear. A final shudder, a two heartbeat rest, and he was up and off of her. She listened to his tired praise, reminded him that an extra dollar on the dresser would help fix it so she was the next one up, come his next visit. Threw in a few words about his huge prick, him being a handsome young man, she'd think of him while she was with her next trick.

As the door shut, she got up to wash. When she looked at the dresser, she saw an extra two dollars. She smiled. Al said it was her born gift of gab, as much as her tight snatch, that got the boys to come across with the extra.

Course, he also said it helped that there was a sucker born every minute, that'd pay for a whore's flattery.

Trixie gave herself a quick going-over at the washstand, then combed her fingers through her wavy blond hair. Tugging her stockings back up, she stuck her money away and went down to see what was set out. Darting a quick hand through the girls surrounding the table, she grabbed a chicken leg and went out back to eat in peace. She threw out a couple of smiles and winks at the men standing around the bar, mouthing "later" on her way.

This place beat the hell out of some of the dumps they'd landed in. She reckoned there'd been at least four stops between Chicago and Denver, maybe one or two more. She mostly saw the ceilings of dingy rooms, wherever they went. Not much difference in those.

Iowa City had been their first stop. Al had rented rooms near the train depot, running her and a local girl out of one, whiskey shots and cards out of the other. Al had a way about him he could bring out, made marks want to be around him. Some ways, he was as much of a whore as she was.

That gambit lasted at least a year, by her reckoning. Things went south when the local girl took sick and brought her cousin in. The new girl was popular, a good earner, but had a heavy hand at picking pockets. One night, her luck ran out with a trick not as drunk as he looked and a bad temper to boot. Trixie had been finishing up blowing a millinery salesman when all hell broke loose…again. She had barely spit and got her top back on when Al busted in, telling her to throw her things in a bag and go around back.

He did take time to collect the money from the salesman, the knife behind his back still dripping. He let it show when the trick seemed to want to linger. That took care of that. She never did find out what happened to the other girl, but when she walked through the other room to grab some clothes, she just saw the one body on the floor.

That was her first train ride. Al had met her at the back of the rooming house, clean and calm like he'd just been to church. For all his roughness and his quick hand, he could be counted on to get them out of trouble, to always have a secret stake for times like this.

"Jesus Christ! Get some shoes on and hurry the fuck up," he said, shoving her bag at her. He bought two tickets from the stationmaster while she laced up her boots, knotting the laces just as the train pulled in.

She took a hit of laudanum as he hustled her towards the train, stoppered it back up with steady hands, even on the run. She didn't miss the water too much…she'd gotten used to the undiluted bitter taste. She stuffed it back in her bag while they stood on the platform. They watched a few people milling around the rooming house, a couple of men with torches, as the train pulled out.

So much for Iowa City.