A nineteen-year-old girl with large brown eyes smiled at the shopkeeper from the other side of the counter. Her blonde curly hair was tied back with a blue bow, a few loose strands curling around her thin face. There was an innocence about her as she rocked on the balls of her feet and wrung her hands together, giving a shy smile to the shopkeeper.
"I'm sorry, sir. My Daddy usually doesn't send me to the store alone, but he's a very busy man. He asked me to give you a list and have someone run the items over to the inn we're staying at." She kept her gaze on him as she spoke, slowly dropping her eyes to the top of the counter as she finished her explanation.
The shopkeeper ran a hand over the bottom half of his scruffy chin, features twisting in hesitation at her request, his lips downturned and eyes squinted. "I dunno 'bout that miss. We ain't do that 'round here. At least not usually."
The girl looked up at him with wide brown eyes. "Oh, you don't? I'm so sorry! My Daddy, uncle, and I are passing through on business. We're from New York City, you see. They do that for us up there all the time… though my uncle usually does the shopping for him. Oh, Daddy is going to be so mad at me…"
She pressed a hand to the side of her face and mustered up a sniffle as tears filled her eyes. "I-I hope he isn't too upset… the one thing he asks of me and I can't even do that…" She whimpered.
The girl looked as though she would burst into tears at any moment. The shopkeeper shifted uncomfortably.
The last thing he wanted was to have some girl sobbing on her way out of the only general store in town… he could only imagine the judgmental glances and whispers that would follow.
She didn't look all that harmful to him anyway. Young, clean, seemingly well educated, wearing a little blue dress and matching bow. The explanation she was from New York City made sense to him with her manners and firm way of speaking. There was no hint of an accent, save for maybe a bit of roughness in how she said a few words. Perhaps a hint of a German accent from a parent, but nothing else.
She seemed trustworthy enough to him. He didn't want to make a girl cry anyhow.
The shopkeeper's demeanor softened as he relented to the girl's request. He drawled out his words, his tone warm but hesitant. "Well, alright then. I reckon we can make an exception this time," he said, scratching the side of his scruffy face. "But ya gotta promise me, this ain't gonna be no regular thing, ya hear?"
The girl nodded eagerly, her large brown eyes wide with gratitude. "Yes sir, I promise! Thank you so much!"
The shopkeeper motioned for one of his employees to come over, a young man with a worn apron tied around his waist.
"Tommy, gather the items on this here list and run it over to the saloon for this young lady. And make sure you collect the payment from whoever receives it," he instructed, handing over the list.
Tommy nodded, tipping his hat to the girl with a friendly smile. "You got it, boss. I'll get it done quick," he said, before turning to the girl. "Don't you fret none, miss. I'll make sure everything gets there in no time."
The girl flashed him a bright smile. "Thank you so much! My Daddy and Uncle will be pleased."
She skipped out of the store and into the street, the spring air a tad humid as the season leaned into summer. She weaved her way through the bustling town of Farmington, Iowa. Dodging passing stagecoaches, groups of women chatting together and children running errands for their parents. It was busy.
A perfect place for them to remain undetected.
The girl went to the nearby inn where she was staying with her uncle and father. She passed through the entryway of the inn, the clerk regarding her with little care as he thumbed through a book behind the desk. She danced up the stairs and down the hall till she made it to the room she shared with her uncle and father.
She entered the room, flashing a grin to a man who sat in the corner. He was huddled over a deck of playing cards with a pen in his hand as he drew on them.
The man was older, at least in his mid-forties. Clean shaven. He had dark salt and pepper hair cut short, skin tanned and dark. It was the complexion of someone who knew labor and the open road. He wore a white button-down with a navy blue vest over top, and a silver pocket watch tucked into his vest pocket. He was well-dressed and well-kept.
"I got it, Uncle Kurt! I got the boy to send the stuff over. He'll be here soon." She looked around the room for her father. "Where's Daddy?"
Kurt looked up from the deck and gave her a smile of his own. "Ah, Rosalie, very well done. As for your father…" He trailed off, eyes drifting to the door as it opened.
Rosalie's father stepped into the room from the hallway as though he had heard them talking about him.
Henry, Rosalie's father, was a tall man, his hair dark like his brother Kurt, but without the graying strands. He held a worn black cowboy hat with a flat brim. His shirt was dark green and rolled up to his elbows, his cream vest buttoned neatly and freshly washed. There wasn't a speck out of place save for a few stains from long-term wear. A gun hung around his waist.
He smiled at his daughter, his brown eyes warm as his eyes ran over the blue dress she wore. "I know you can't stand it, but the dress does look nice on you, Rosalie."
Rosalie sighed and moved across the room to sit in the chair across from her uncle.
The pretty, poised demeanor she had supported in the shopkeeper's presence dropped as she leaned back with a slouch, throwing her arm over the back of the chair. She spread her legs and sighed as she allowed her head to lull back.
"Sure. I'm just ready to get out of this dress, Daddy." She twirled an end of the ribbon tied in her hair between her fingers. She sighed again.
It was rare that she would wear these frilly dresses. She knew it was an important detail to the appearance of innocence, so she didn't throw any fits. They did what they needed for the money—she could understand that elementary concept at least.
If anything, Rosalie sometimes found it enjoyable how others were none the wiser to her mischief. They were less likely to suspect her of wrongdoings if she presented herself in a pretty dress with a kind smile. While she had her qualms with her gender, it did have its perks. She was a sheep in wolf's clothing, 'Dolled up like a prim and proper lady', as her father would say.
Her uncle Kurt let out a chuckle. "You act as though it's the worst thing in the world to wear a dress."
"Don't tease me, Uncle," She murmured with her eyes closed.
Kurt and Henry shared an amused look at her dramatic misery.
"You should go back downstairs," said her father as he placed his worn black hat on his head. "I'm sure the shopkeeper's boy will be arriving soon."
Rosalie nodded and hoisted herself out of the chair. She stretched her arms high above her head and yawned as she walked across the room.
"Remember to meet us out back after you get the items." Instructed Henry. "And make it quick."
He walked over to their belongings and began gathering them together for travel.
Kurt pocketed the pen and cards he had been crowding over. He smirked at his niece. "I saw the shopkeeper's boy earlier. He's a handsome young man. I'm sure he would take a liking to you if you showed your interest…"
Rosalie returned his smirk with a mischievous grin, her cheeks rosy. "Yes, uncle."
With that, Rosalie left the room and made a point for her steps to sound delicate as she descended the stairs. If she was lucky, she would catch Tommy, the shopkeeper's boy, by surprise.
Uncle Kurt was quite the genius, and she was kicking herself internally for not coming up with the idea on her own. Tommy had to be the same age as her if not at least a year older. A bat of her eyelashes and she would have him swooning.
She slowed before she rounded the corner that led into the inn lobby, peering around it.
Tommy was having a friendly conversation with the innkeeper. Something about the weather; a subject that was unimportant to her. They hadn't noticed Rosalie's lurking.
Tommy was close enough to the stairs. Her plan would be executed just fine.
Rosalie shook her head as a few curls sprang out of place. Satisfied by the frumpiness of her hair, she continued down the steps so she was now visible to the two chatting men, even if they were still ignorant of her presence. She raised a hand to her hair to fix a few out-of-place blonde curls and dropped down another step. She pursed her lips as she feigned her over-attentiveness to her hair.
"Ah!" She gasped, stumbling forward as she tripped on the last step.
Tommy looked over at the sound of her gasp and lunged as soon as he saw her fumble.
It was a smooth catch. Rosalie landed in his arms, her hands sliding past his waist and into his pocket. She huffed, eyes wide as she feigned fear. Her fingers fumbled for the loose paper of the dollars tucked inside his pocket, curling around the bills once she felt them.
"Are ya' alright, miss?" asked Tommy with concern. He looked over her as though he was looking for any injury, not realizing how close in proximity they were.
Rosalie shook her head and let out a slight gasp. "Why, yes, I am. Thank you, Sir. I should have been paying better attention. My Daddy always says I'm such a klutz…"
She made an effort to slowly drag her eyes from the ground to meet Tommy's concerned, blue gaze. She gave him a shy smile.
Tommy swallowed as his face turned a deep red. "Ah, I-I–ain't no problem, miss. Couldn' let a pretty lady like ya' fall, ya' know?"
The innkeeper cleared his throat awkwardly. Tommy's head snapped in the direction of the man who was looking at the pair over the top of his spectacles. Startled, he stood up straight, dragging Rosalie with him.
Rosalie stumbled back and turned to the side as she draped a hand over her chest. "Well, I… oh, I am so embarrassed."
Tommy was still red in the face and not looking at her. "Oh, miss, please. Ain't think nothin' of it."
Rosalie swiftly deposited the money into the front of her dress. She turned to face him again with a thankful smile.
"Why, you are such a gentleman." She tucked a blonde hair behind her ear and allowed her gaze to linger on the bashful young man.
With a shake of her head, she wrung her hands together. She nodded towards the neatly packaged bag on the counter.
"Are these the items on the list?" She asked as she took a step forward to peer into the bags.
"Ahem… yes, they are, ma'am," Tommy said.
He wasn't looking at her, his gaze on the ground. It seemed as though he were trying to look anywhere but at her. Not that she was complaining. The less attention he had on her the better. Maybe she felt a little bad for tricking him into thinking she was bashful from being in such close proximity to him, but it was his own fault anyway for being so easily fooled.
Rosalie gave him another kind smile as she scooped the bag into her arms. Not that it mattered, as he still wasn't looking at her.
"I'll go run this to my Daddy. Thank you so much!" Rosalie walked down the bottom floor hallway till she was out of sight.
Once she was sure they could no longer see her, she broke into a sprint out the back door. She ran up the hill that led into the open forest behind the inn. Her father and uncle were waiting, already saddled in their horses with their supplies strapped to the back of the mares. They were prepared for a quick getaway. She didn't need to waste any more time.
Rosalie spotted her horse beside them with the reins in her father's hand. It was a black stallion she had affectionately named Blitz as a young girl. A thoroughbred. One that they had stolen from a farm years ago.
She quickly fastened the rucksack of supplies to the back of her horse. Hiking herself up onto the saddle, she hooked her feet into the stirrups and took the reins from her father.
Rosalie flashed Henry a smile. He returned it eagerly as he peered at her from under the brim of his black cowboy hat. Pride reflected in his eyes as he looked at his daughter, and Rosalie couldn't help her own pride that swelled in her chest at the sight of his approving gaze.
It wasn't the first time she had completed a task like this–thieving and whatnot–but there was no feeling she enjoyed more than the look of satisfaction on her father's face when she followed through successfully. She wasn't all that different from others in that regard. Rosalie just wanted to make her father proud. Even if it was through the acts of cheating, lying, and stealing.
"Look at you, got exactly what we needed!" Her Uncle Kurt cheered as he eyed the bag of supplies settled behind her. He reached over and patted her on the back enthusiastically. "Little Rosalie has done it again!"
Henry opened his mouth to respond, but the shouts of panic coming from around the corner of the inn brought a concerned look to his face. "Well, I think that's enough celebrating for now. We better get outta here before that shopkeeper boy realizes what you've done–"
"Hey!" shouted the boy, right on time with her father's prediction as he rounded the corner.
He threw his hat to the ground and started shouting. "What the hell are ya' doin'? Ya' 'possed to pay me!"
"Go! Go!" Shouted Kurt as he kicked his horse into a sprint.
Henry grimaced and shot Rosalie a look, before he took off behind his brother.
Rosalie did the same, following tightly behind her uncle and father as they sprinted through the forest, the path taking them deep within the trees.
She felt a bit guilty for making that Tommy boy look so stupid… but it was the shopkeeper's own fault for letting someone like that handle his business. A foolish boy, getting all bashful and tied up from a few bats of her eyelashes. He probably hadn't realized the money missing from his pocket yet either.
"Uncle, do you know where we're going?!" Rosalie shouted over the loud sounds of the horse's hooves smacking the ground. Branches and leaves crunched underneath the swift gallop of the horses.
"Of course I do!" Kurt shouted back, looking over his shoulder at her with a grin. "Got a place picked out the moment we got a room in town! I knew we wouldn't be there long, so I had to keep a backup plan in mind! You'd do better than doubting me, Rosalie!"
Rosalie couldn't help the grin practically splitting her face in two. "Ah, my bad, Uncle! I should know as you're so wise and all-knowing!"
Kurt barked a laugh. "Ain't that right!"
Henry shook his head at the banter between the two, but there was still a ghost of a smile across his face.
As they rode deeper into the forest, their pace slowed to a steady trot. The urgency of their escape began to ease, replaced by a sense of cautious relief. Henry led the way, navigating the winding trails with the ease of someone familiar with the terrain.
Rosalie glanced over her shoulder, half-expecting to see Tommy or some other pursuer hot on their heels.
If she were being honest, she wouldn't have minded a little more of a chase. The exhilaration was addicting. The possibility wasn't too outlandish anyhow, as it wouldn't have been the first time someone chased them down—most didn't take kindly to being robbed. There were countless times something like that had occurred, since Henry, Kurt, and Rosalie had been running their schemes ever since she could remember.
One of Rosalie's first memories was of her father parading her around in a fancy dress in the downtown of some large city up North. The memory was fuzzy, but it was possibly a street somewhere in Rhode Island filled with wealthy folk.
Citizens oohed and awed at her; a little girl with bright, curly blonde hair and big brown eyes. Allegedly, her cute getup in a pretty dress and her father in a (stolen) fancy Italian suit had people offering them free meals and offering to pay for their carriage rides.
"Appearances easily fool people, Rosalie," Her father had said chidingly after another patron had offered to pay for their meal when he 'forgot' his wallet.
It was a way they made a living. They had been doing it for many years. There was never any talk of settling down at some point, but she had heard her father and uncle whisper about it when they thought she was asleep.
From their whispers, they wanted to find a place way out west. If they saved enough money, perhaps both of them would find honest work.
It was difficult for Rosalie to imagine her father, let alone her uncle, living life as a rancher or laborer. A life without the exhilarating chase and mischievous schemes seemed opposite to what her uncle and father were built for. Uncle Kurt seemed to conjure their schemes in his sleep, his subconscious weaving together lies and fancy stories to earn them a nice reward. Paired with her father, who had a careful hand and the skills to get them out of a sticky situation, there was no other life she could imagine them living.
She wasn't sure she wanted anything different either.
But Rosalie had a suspicion that this desire for a different life was not for themselves, but for her.
Henry had expressed his thoughts on the danger of their schemes on more than one occasion. There was no doubt that they were playing a dangerous game. They were just lucky enough to not have tricked the wrong person. One wrong scheme, and they could all end up in prison, or worse; dead.
But there were no pursuers now. The forest remained quiet, save for the rustle of leaves in the breeze and the rhythmic hoofbeats of their horses.
"Think we lost 'em?" Kurt called out from behind her, his voice tinged with a mix of adrenaline and amusement.
Henry nodded, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips. "Looks like it. But we're not out of the woods yet."
Rosalie couldn't help but chuckle at her father's pun, though the tension in her shoulders didn't fully dissipate. She knew they couldn't afford to let their guard down just yet.
They rode on in silence for a while, hearing only the sound of the gentle creaking of leather and the occasional snort from one of the horses. The dense canopy overhead filtered the sunlight, casting dappled shadows on the forest floor.
Eventually, they emerged into a small clearing bathed in golden light. Henry reined in his horse, signaling for the others to do the same.
"We'll rest here for a bit," he announced, swinging down from his saddle and stretching his legs. "But not for too long. We don't want anyone catching up to us."
Rosalie dismounted, her legs feeling a bit wobbly after the adrenaline-fueled ride. She patted Blitz's flank affectionately, grateful for the steady presence of her horse. She made a mental note to brush him later.
Kurt joined them on the ground, his expression more serious now that they were out of immediate danger. "So, what's the plan now, Henry?"
Henry glanced around the clearing as if searching for any signs of trouble. "We'll lay low for tonight, and make our way to the next town over. From there, we'll put our little poker scheme into play…"
Rosalie crossed her arms with a raised brow as Henry began to set up a campfire. "Poker scheme? Is that why Uncle Kurt's been huddled around those playing cards for the last few days?"
Kurt grinned as he fished the deck from inside of his vest. He gave it a teasing wave. "Yes, Miss Rosalie, the ever-observant. I've been doodling on these cards. Drawing little symbols on them so I can tell which card belongs to what suit... I'll slide them into that worn deck those dealers use at the mangey saloons… they'll have no idea. I have a second deck as well to swap out any card in my hand that I don't like."
Rosalie hummed as she walked over to her horse. She unfastened the rucksack of supplies stolen from town and dropped it to the ground. Shuffling through it, she pulled out an apple and took a large bite out of it. The crunch was loud as she ate.
"Well, Uncle, if you think that'll get us loads of cash, I suppose there's nothing wrong with it," She said through a mouthful of fruit. "Like you said, I should know better than to doubt you."
Rosalie grinned at him, and Kurt eagerly returned it. He stuffed the cards back into his vest.
"Ah, so you can learn something after all!" He walked over and tossed his arm over her shoulder, throwing her around like a ragdoll with his force. He roughly rubbed his fist into her scalp and threw her hair everywhere.
Rosalie cried out in disdain. She wrenched herself out of his grip with a loud shriek as she tried to fix her hair, apple in the other hand still. "Uncle Kurt!"
Henry shook his head. "Enough horseplay, you two. Let's set up camp, get some rest, and we'll set for the next town tomorrow. Let's hope this scheme works, Kurt. I'd like a nice meal for all the traveling we've been doing lately."
"It'll work," reassured Kurt as he grabbed the bedrolls from his horse. "Don't you fret about it, little brother."
The next morning Rosalie dressed in a long-sleeved, blue pinstriped button-up shirt. She rolled the sleeves to her elbows and slid on a pair of cream work pants. After putting on her brown boots, she walked out to the campfire to find her father roasting a fish over the fire.
"Breakfast?" Asked Rosalie as she ruffled her loose blonde curls. They cascaded down to the center of her back, bouncy and shiny in the morning light.
Henry nodded and continued to roast the fish, turning it over the fire. The scales began to turn a light golden as the smell of fish filled the crisp morning air.
"I caught it this morning. Something light before we leave for the nearby town." Henry reached for the tin cup on the ground beside the fire. With his free hand, he held it up and offered it to Rosalie.
Rosalie took the cup and sniffed the contents. She smiled and took a sip. "Putting some of that coffee I got to use?"
Henry returned her smile. "Might as well."
Rosalie lowered herself to sit by the fire, feet on the ground and her arm thrown over the knees. She sipped idly at her coffee as she watched her father continue to spin the fish over the fire.
Uncle Kurt continued to snore in the bedroll beside the fire. Rosalie and Henry looked over at him at the same time, the same deadpan expression on their features as they looked at the snoring man, a line of drool running down his chin.
The pair looked away from Kurt to share another expression, their brows quirked in mild amusement.
Once Kurt had woken up, they ate breakfast and packed up their camp to head to the nearest town.
They rode for about half a day. It was now well into the afternoon. The sun was beating down on her as they trotted down the beaten path. Birds cawed overhead, paired with the occasional rustle from a doe in the tree line.
To Rosalie's relief, the town was finally in sight. The buildings were a nice change from the open hills and greenery they had been traveling through for the last few hours. Rosalie liked the countryside, but she was eager to see the poker play her Uncle had been talking up all night.
She knew her way around a poker table pretty well. Henry had shown her the ropes after she spotted a game going on in a pub on their way through a random town. Her curiosity got the best of her, and she ended up spending hours practicing with a deck of cards, playing against herself. It didn't take long before she was outsmarting both her father and Uncle. They quickly learned not to wager anything when playing against Rosalie.
Rosalie was eager to see what cash her uncle would rake in against her opponents with his little tricks. It made sense that he had to cheat to earn any cash at all. He was terrible at anything having to do with cards, really.
While Kurt had been murmuring to himself about his deck of cards, Henry had been alert their entire trip, hand not too far from the gun strapped to his hip while the other held the reins of his mare with a white-knuckled grip.
Rosalie wasn't sure why he was on such high alert, but she was thankful for the revolver against her hip and the rifle strapped to her stallion, Blitz.
They rode into the town, the citizens about as they did their daily tasks. A group of men were constructing a new building, their hammering and loud shouting reaching them from the other end of the street. The butcher was murmuring to himself as he slammed his knife down on the fresh game at his table.
A group of men leaned against the saloon they approached, cigarettes hanging from their lips as they watched the three hitch their horses. A couple of women fanned themselves from beside them. They were not having a conversation, just watching as the group dismounted.
Henry eyed the people hanging outside the saloon wearily. He patted his horse and shot Kurt a look. "Maybe we should try the next town over. Get a drink here and then get a move on. I don't like the way these people are looking at us."
Rosalie grimaced as she walked over to her father and uncle. Her eyes lingered on the men who stared at her as though she were their afternoon lunch. Their gazes were intense and unwavering. Rosalie stared them down, but they did not shy away from her disapproving look.
Kurt shook his head and wiped down his front of invisible dust. "Trust me, it'll be fine. Besides, I'm sure Rosalie wouldn't mind a drink!"
He wrapped his arm around his niece's shoulders and steered her up the stairs toward the saloon doors. His arm was shaking and his hand was hot against her shoulder. She could feel the nervousness radiating from him. Whether it was from the implantation of her father's fears that something was wrong, or the pre-scheme jitters, it didn't make her feel very confident.
Rosalie looked at him disapprovingly as he walked them over to the bar. He leaned over the counter lazily and ordered them two glasses of whiskey.
"Uncle Kurt," She asked, leaning on her fist as she watched for his reaction. "Are you nervous?"
Kurt laughed as though it was the most absurd question. "Nervous?! No, why would I be? This will work, Rosalie. Remember, I told you not to doubt me."
Rosalie shifted, frowning as the bartender slid the glass of brown alcohol her way, taking the glass and staring down at it idly. Swirling it around, she couldn't help the pit of anxiety growing in her stomach.
Rosalie forced a smile to her face and faced Kurt. "Well, alright then."
"Good girl," Kurt gave her a firm pat on the back before he shot her a wink. "Now then, I'll be heading over to the poker table for a nice friendly game. If I start to lose terribly, I can expect my darling niece to bail me out, eh?"
Rosalie smiled again, this time feeling much more genuine. "Sure, Uncle."
Kurt walked over to the table and seated himself, beginning some boisterous conversation between himself and the other patrons. She did her best not to pay too much attention to the table, as the thought of the game occurring only made her anxiety go through the roof. Rosalie hoped her uncle knew what he was doing, and that her father's worries were all in his head for their sake.
Rosalie looked over her shoulder to see Henry leaning on the wall within a decent distance of the poker table and saloon doors. He had placed himself strategically between the two in case they needed to make a quick break.
For whatever reason, now that they were here, her father felt the plan was unwise to move forward with. Rosalie wished that he would tell her what made him feel so jumpy… then maybe she could give her insights on the matter too, or even convince her Uncle not to proceed with the plan for now. Henry still sheltered her in some ways, and it pissed her off.
Rosalie snorted and shook her head, drowning the glass of whisky in one go.
She coughed, squeezing her eyes shut at the bitter taste. Wiping the back of her mouth with her sleeve, Rosalie opened her eyes with a grimace on her face, eyes on the bar counter as she tried to get over how disgusting the whiskey was.
Rosalie always preferred beer and found the dark liquid hard to stomach. She was also sure there was some man watching her struggle to stomach the alcohol and found her reaction amusing. The thought made her squabble internally with the invisible person making fun of her.
"That him, Dutch?"
"Outta' be. I feel bad for whoever is playing that game over there with him because the winner is gonna be in a world of hurt."
Rosalie looked up like a wild animal, her hair standing on end at the conversation. She looked to the side of the bar, a group of men chatting amongst each other as they watched the poker game in the corner.
One had dark hair, the strands neatly combed back on his head with the beginnings of a mustache as though he had just started growing one. He was dressed well in a red button-up, gun strapped to his hip as he watched the game with an analytical gaze.
The other men in his group all appeared younger, save for one, who appeared to be pushing forty, his hair short and greying, face blocky and scruffy. He also watched the game but with less intensity than the other.
The last man in their trio was the youngest by far. A young man who looked about her age. He had messy brown hair hidden underneath a black cowboy hat that looked almost too big for his head. There was a scowl on his face as he leaned against the counter, appearing interested in the game, but more so to the
commentary of the two men.
"Should we act now, Dutch, or wait and see how things go?" Asked the older man out of the three, his eyes ever attentive to the poker game ensuing in the corner.
The man he was speaking to, presumably named Dutch, with dark hair and the beginnings of a mustache, shook his head. "No. We need to wait. We can't move in on O'Driscoll until something happens. We need not to cause a scene."
Rosalie furrowed her brows as she tried to comb her way through their conversation for any hint of understanding.
These men seemed to know one of the players by the name of O'Driscoll. It was not a familiar name to her, so it must have been someone they had personal business with. Rosalie, her father, and Uncle were still new to the area and were not as familiar with the local gangs and affiliates as they were up North.
She only hoped these men were not violent—though she had little hope for that, knowing where they were.
The young boy with the large cowboy hat caught her gaze. Rosalie's entire body tensed at having been caught, his blue gaze icy and intense as he watched her. He did not move or speak to the other men in his party. He only watched her.
Rosalie looked away. Her hair stood on end, the anxiety creeping up her spine as his blue gaze continued to piece her.
The atmosphere of this saloon was unnerving. The group off to the side… the talk of an O'Driscoll man… perhaps her father was right in his anxiety and they should have left the moment he got a bad feeling.
"You damn cheated!" Bellowed an angry man behind her.
Rosalie's head snapped over her shoulder, her blood running cold.
A man dressed in fine clothes of all black, short brown hair underneath a brown cowboy hat glared daggers at her Uncle from across the poker table. There was a wild look to him. He did not look like a friendly man.
Rosalie could not deny the fear that ran through her at the sight of him.
He slammed his palms against the top of the poker table. The chips rattled and cards slid across the green felt. The other players flinched and avoided his gaze.
His jaw was set, teeth grit as he looked at Kurt as though he would jump over the table and wrap his hands around his neck till his face turned white. "Ya' think I wouldn't notice a damn cheater at my table ya' son of a bitch!"
Kurt raised his hands slowly in surrender as though he was speaking to a feral dog. A bead of sweat ran down the back of his neck.
"Now listen here, we don't need to get angry, do we? Just a friendly game of poker," Kurt said in a soft voice, his facade of calm betrayed by the tremor in his hands. "Let's just calm down and talk about this like men."
Henry tensed at his position by the saloon doors. His hand slid down to his belt, fingers inches from his revolver. His eyes were unmoving from the enraged man in dark clothing.
Rosalie's heart pounded in her chest. Her hand also slid towards her belt, the other hand securing around the empty glass of whisky. She scanned the room, noticing how others had frozen. No one made a sound. Hands hovered over their belts or on the outside of their coats, ready to fish out something for protection.
The wild man laughed, throwing his hands in the air. "Calm down… this man asked me to calm down!"
Before anyone could speak, the man slid his revolver from his belt and his wrist was snapping in the air. A gunshot rang out. A woman in the corner screamed. Blood sprayed all around where Uncle Kurt sat, covering the patrons seated behind him, the table, chairs, and the floor. His head lulled to the side and he slouched in his chair.
Rosalie let out a scream. Her blood was cold and she felt sick. Her heart pounded in her ears, her hands numb. She couldn't breathe.
Her Uncle was shot and killed over a deck of cards.