disclaimer: I own nada.
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Darton is a tiny town. Like so small the main street is only 50 yards long. There are six buildings, three of which are oriented for the male human. Yup, two saloons and a brothel. Sure, can't have a town with out those now can we? Of course not. There was also a general merchandise, a blacksmith, and the sheriff's office.
It has been a veritable hell the past week and a half, yes, it has. Between Quinn's incessant whining, Bryan and Nate's constant bickering, Adam's lewd remarks, and Kit's silence, I'm about to murder . . . four men. Yeah, only four, Kit hasn't been too annoying . . . though he could have stopped the fighting, but ah well, can't have everything. The guys actually are pretty quiet, strangely enough.
Then there's that little problem concerning my "initiation into manhood" that the guys are planning, hmm, what to do, what to do? This could be fun . . .
"Well, here we are, Darton, Nevada." announced Quinn "Told ya I could get us here, and we're a day ahead of schedule!"
"Quinn! What did I say about that schedule!" Bryan growled, for what felt like the hundredth time.
"Ignoring you." Quinn said not looking at him "So where to first?"
"Saloon." "Home." "Women." were all offered by the others, I remained silent, praying they'd forget about me.
"Yeah, that's right." Adam smiled remembering "We need to introduce Ryan here to the joys of women."
No, please, why me? I swear I must be the unluckiest girl in the United States. Damned men.
"I'm headin' over to the saloon, anybody care to join me?" Kit asked, (a futile effort).
"I will!" I say quickly, screw my age I'd rather get drunk than go with the others.
"Now Ryan," Bryan said smirking "You can come with us."
And that was that, Kit went one way, we went another (I was dragged another), my life is over . . . or Ryan's is anyway. At least it was fun while it lasted, hope the guys don't hate me though.
Well, a brothel . . . definitely a place I never thought I'd ever be. We left the horses tied outside to the hitching post. And in the blink of an eye, before I knew what'd happened, I was alone, in a bedroom with a woman . . .
She's pretty, redheaded, not too old, probably early thirties.
"Listen, Ma'am . . ." I started awkwardly.
"Honey, call me Brynna." she sayed cheerfully, smiling in what I guess she means to be a reassuring way.
"Brynna, um, well ya see, the thing is . . ." I took off my hat, letting my carefully hidden dark red-brown braid tumble down "I'm a girl."
"Well, why don't you come with me, we can talk in the kitchen." she says grinning. She leads me to the kitchen where we share a cup of tea.
"So I take it your friends don't know you're a girl?" she asks laughing, after I explain the mix up.
"Yeah." I agreed, "Thanks for the tea, but I guess I'd better be going."
"You're welcome. Say, would you like to wash up hon?" she asked, looking me over.
I was feeling pretty bad, a few weeks of riding, and not one bath does that to a girl.
"I would love to ma'am." I replied smiling happily. I cleaned up and took my leave, going outside into the early evening sunshine. I left Ace tied next to Chocolate Chip, Rhode, Bryan's mare Molasses, and Nate's gelding Charger.
I walked down main street, hat on my head, but my thick braid hanging down my back, I'd changed clothes, I was wearing clean jeans and a green flannel long sleeved shirt. Anyone with eyes could see my femininity, and that's exactly what I wanted.
"Hello Darlin', what's a pretty girl like you doin' all by your lonesome?" asked a male voice confidently, he was blond, tall, and confidently walking next to me.
"And just what would it matter to a backwoods lout like you?" I asked, secretly appraising him. He was wearing dark baggy clothes.
"You wound me." he declared thumping his chest "Right here."
My feet have carried me to the sheriff's office, we pause outside.
"Can't a guy worry about a pretty gal without getting the third degree?" he asked pouting slightly.
"Not when that guy is you Darrell." drawled another voice, I looked up, past black cowboy boots, leather chaps over black pants, a black shirt with a silver sheriff's star, shoulder length black hair tied back with a leather strap, and a lazy tom-cat grin . . . into dark brown mustang eyes.
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