<i>"In the pines, in the pines, where the sun never shines<br/>
I shivered where the cold winds blow..."</i><br/><br/>Two women were singing in harmony as the sun came up on Onyx Landing, illuminating their final destination only perhaps a mile off now. They'd been driving since well before dawn, considering the slow pace that had been plaguing them since they had left Kiowa. And no wonder: their chosen vehicle was an enormous logging wagon that had somehow been fitted with a patchwork canvas covering, a sort of bastard offspring between a Conestoga and a garish gypsy caravan. While it did not appear that the women were using the vehicle for its intended purpose (although the one driving the wagon looked large and strong enough to be a lumberjack herself), it was clearly loaded down with chests and boxes, and if one looked closely though the gap behind the driver's seat there was also some rather ominous looking machinery towering in the back. Still, the team of four rather intimidating black drafthorses pulling the wagon kept an easy, leisurely pace, though no doubt they would be happy enough to be set free of their burden once they reached town.<br/><br/>There was a slight resemblance between the singers on the buckboard, particularly in the thin wide mouths and matching sets of dark brown eyes.  But the resemblances ended there.  The large woman, dressed in men's trousers and shirt with a boss-of-the-plains hat pulled low over her bright red braids didn't sing as loudly as the smaller, darker woman strumming the guitar beside her, and while she seemed at ease driving the team the redhead appeared to be growing more anxious with every step they took towards the town.<br/><br/>"You sure this was a good idea, Jess?" the driver asked finally, glancing over at her blissfully humming companion.  "This place is so...<i>isolated.</i>" And barren, and sad-looking, and probably a hundred miles from the nearest post office, but she didn't feel the need to spoil her sister's good mood just yet.<br/><br/>"Hm?  'Course it is.  No paper around here for miles,<i>and</i>we have a building all to ourselves. Certainly a step up from that stable full of horseshit back in Kiowa, isn't it?" Jess remarked, setting aside her guitar and reaching in to the pocket of her sadly faded black suit jacket to pull out a small packet of papers. "See? It's official and everything. Bob Jakes says we can rent his old barbershop through the rest of the year while he heads out to Californy to try his luck at prospecting. We'll have take out the chairs of course, and probably clean out some of the blood--Bob was such a shit typesetter, I can't imagine he's any better at surgery or teeth-pulling--but there's a stove and bed and everything in the back." The small woman tucked the papers away safely and set her bowler hat more firmly on top of her dark brown hair, a look of satisfaction spreading across her face as she resumed her plucking.<br/><br/>"Yes, my dear sweet Jules, we are going to be living like queens in this bustling little hamlet, I just know it.  We set up shop, sell the team and the wagon to the mines, you print us up a couple of samples and I'll start making the rounds to drum up subscriptions.  We've got enough ad revenue to hold us over for a few months, and if the mine keeps growing the way Bob says, I wouldn't be surprised if we get even more.  Might even be able to hire on another fella or two.  We'll need a rider to pick up the eastern rags if the post office won't bring 'em all the way out here.  But we'll make it work, won't we?"<br/><br/><i>I don't know, will we?</i>Jules wanted to ask, but she stayed silent.  It was just as well; as she often did, Jess answered her own question.<br/><br/>"Of course we will," the elder sister replied, then started in on another verse.<br/><br/>"<i>Little girl, little girl, don't you lie to me<br/>
Tell me where did you get that dress?<br/>
From a man in the mines, where the sun never shines<br/>
He shivers where the cold winds blow."</i><br/><br/>Jules was more than a little concerned when the wagon finally rolled into town to fine the streets a good deal less bustling than one might expect a thriving mining town to be.  True, there were a few men shuffling about here and there, and a few feminine faces peering out the window of one particularly building (causing the redhead to blush violently when she realized just what sort of an establishment<i>that </i>must be), but it was a far cry from the other mining and logging towns where the sisters had plied their trade.<br/><br/>"Look, there it is!" Jess cried, leaping down from the wagon in front of a<a class="link link--external" href="https://i.pinimg.com/564x/39/7b/bd/397bbda8126cc859f028bc903257d83c.jpg" rel="nofollow ugc noopener" target="_blank">dilapidated building</a>that had a faded barber pole swaying drunkenly in the wind over the open door.  Her sister realized with some discomfort that it was directly across the street from the brothel, which had probably been intentional when it was built.  What man wouldn't enjoy showing off his fresh shave to the pretty faces across the way?  But in the months since Bob had lit out for California, the building had fallen into bad disrepair, and Jules was grateful Jess had been the first one to step inside, especially since when she emerged she was driving out a stumbling, cursing man at gunpoint.<br/><br/>"Crazy bitch, who the fuck do you think you are?"<br/><br/>"The new tenant of this establishment," Jess replied, holding a six-shooter in one hand and pulling out the signed lease with the other.  "Now get the fuck out, or does my baby sister there need to teach you the proper way to speak to a lady?"<br/><br/>Knowing the cue, Jules stepped down from the wagon, easily standing an inch or two above the stinking, muttering fellow and making the ugliest, most threatening face she could manage while curling her long-fingered and callused hands into fists.  She was more than a little relieved with it appeared to have worked, and with only a few more grunts and growl the squatter staggered off down the street looking for whiskey.<br/><br/>"Nicely done," Jess remarked, stepping off the porch and patting her sister on the shoulder.  "How about you start unloading the wagon, and I'll see if I can go find a couple of fellas to help with the press?  There's gotta be one or two looking to make a buck on their day off."<br/><br/>"Sure, I can do that," Jules replied, hoping the building wouldn't fall down around them in the process.  With a grin, Jess scampered off across the street and began to knock on the door of the brothel.  After all, if men wanted to spend their money on whores, they needed to make sure they had plenty of it, didn't they?<br/><br/>"Hullo in there!  Anyone at home?" she called, peering in through the windows of the Dusky Belle.