Tom took in the rapid patter of the self-proclaimed newspaperman, a mountain of a woman with lots of thick red hair and a no-nonsense air, then scratched his chin. He was hungry just now, and worked better on a full stomach. But five dollars was five dollars after all, and he wasn’t fool enough to turn down paid work.<br/><br/>“Ma’am,” he spoke up, clearing his throat, “betwixt me an’ this fellow-“ he gestured at the one-armed man who’d already spoken, “Ah reckon we outta be good fer six hunnerd pounds, if’n he’s lookin’ ta break a sweat. If not...” he shrugged. “Ah kin manage, if’n y’ain’t in no hurry.”<br/><br/>Course, a big gal like her could probably manage on her own. Newspaperman she might be, but she was tall as him - maybe an inch taller, even - and looked like she could toss him around. Still, five dollars was five dollars. “Whaddya say, sir?” he added, glancing at the one-armed man. “You up ta doin’ this nice lady a good turn?”<br/><br/>-*-<br/><br/>Cassie stomped down the stairs of the Dusky Belle, scowling and buckling her gunbelt on. Life, she decided, was just<i>not fair</i>. Here she was, working as hired muscle in a whorehouse, and she’d managed to go to bed horny and frustrated<i>and</i>wake up the exact same way. “Goddamn rowdy drunks,” she mumbled. “Mighta gotten laid good and hard last night, if they hadn’t butted in.”<br/><br/>And now someone had been pounding at the front door, interrupting as she was getting herself warmed up to take the edge off. Fuck. Especially since Miss Vickie had beaten her to said door. “Morning, ma’am,” she said, joining her employer. “Everything all right?  Or do I need to start in earning my keep?”