<div align="center"><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: georgia;"><strong><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 12pt;">The Dead Horse Saloon</span></strong></span><br/></div><hr/><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: georgia;">A long steely blue-eyed glance was passed to <strong>Meytir </strong>while unknowingly Lady Magnificent was trotting her way through the crowd towards The Drifter. It was a stare that hadn't come from a long life of pretending to be a man while working on cattle trails, but one that had seen death, had caused death, and survived hardships. And then a smile broke through that harsh expression, one that was friendly and open. "Yeah, you can say that again Ah 'spose. Do a lady a favor an' take the body outside, wouldya? Ain't good to have a corpse layin' on the floor where people are tryin' to have a good time," The Drifter said to him casually. Hopefully there were still some gentlemen left on Eastwood. Jerry Burns had stopped wriggling around by this point and was fading into death with his last few breaths. In another minute, he'd be deceased.<br/><br/>It almost seemed as if the gunslinger were going to say something else to the man, Meytir, but that was quickly interrupted by a hand grabbing at her bicep which forced The Drifter to go ridged while she was being turned around swiftly and with a strong grip. Yeah, there was going to be trouble. It seemed someone was upset that she had shot the apparent 'once sheriff'. Though, The Drifter was quite surprised when the recognizable voice rung out in her ears, followed by the squeal of delight. Then her eyes met Lady's figure before being pulled into a tight hug. The Drifter groaned inwardly. It wasn't that she didn't like Lady Mag, on the contrary The Drifter adored her and considered her a good friend, it was just that when she was around well, there was trouble. When was her luck ever going to change?<br/><br/>"Yeah, good to see you too La—" The Drifter's expression suddenly widen with her eyes almost popping out of her sockets as Lady Mag groped at her bottom which brought a virgin's blush to her cheeks as always. The gunslinger just sighed heavily and allowed it, knowing there was no resisting the quirks of that woman. "Alright, alright. We got enough stares an' all Lady. Good to see yer still the little temptress. You haven't changed one bit. And no, Ah haven't seen Gun since, well," The Drifter paused for a moment still in that woman's embrace while thinking back on it. When <em>had </em>been the last time she saw that damned man? "Ah haven't seen him for a long while, Lady, sorry," she continued on before the tease hit her. "And we ain't like that! Ah wouldn't fall in love with Gun if he were the last man on Eastwood, Ah rather be one o' them lesbos!" Oh yes, and the men around them were hoping to dear God that she would be one right now, what with their bulging eyes and pants. The only people that seemed to have a brain in their heads right now were Meytir and another, <strong>Apryl</strong>, though The Drifter couldn't even guess who those two were at the moment. <br/><br/>Her train of thought was interrupted again by a man that was claiming to be "Best in the West" as explained by Lady Mag. The Drifter pushed away the other woman gently by placing her hands on Lady's shoulder and tugging herself from her steel grip. The man was waving around cash; something that The Drifter could use more of instead of going on yet another trail ride with a bunch of drunkard cowpokes. For a long, tense moment Marilyn stared hard at the supposed "gunslinger" before passing Lady Mag a glance then focused her attention back on the golden guns of that man. "'Best in the West', eh? You know, there's only one way to get that title and that's to kill my ol' mentor. Must be perdy good with them guns o' yers," The Drifter said not even acknowledging anymore of his offering. A single Wilson was raised and aimed dead square at his chest and she cocked back the hammer again. <br/><br/>"See I may not like 'im but he is a... friend," The word was hard to say and admit, but she really did consider him one, even if obscurely so," ... and Ah don't take lightly to those that claim to have killed 'im. You say yer Best in the West, well then Ah challenge you fer right to that title. It belongs to me an' not you, Ah'm afraid." The Drifter had decided that instead of sleeping with the man, she'd just shoot him and then take his money. "You ain't scare o' a little girl gunslinger, are ya 'Best in the West'?" </span><br/><br/><div align="center"><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: georgia;"><strong><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 12pt;">Elsewhere...</span></strong></span></div><hr/><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: georgia;">The firing up and the recognizable roar of her precious bike coming to life had woken that red-headed woman up. It was slow though, and groggy with a small groan resounding in the back of her throat. It had been years since her last hang over and this one was raging. Slowly pulling her hands out from beneath the pillow as she laid on her naked stomach, Wilson's appeared from beneath the downy pillow. Even if having been drunk last night, the woman was not about to leave herself unguarded around any man. It was only when her motorcycle revved up a final time and burned down the middle of town did Cursed Jo quickly sit upright with realization. <br/><br/></span><div align="center"><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: georgia;">The man was gone.</span></div><br/><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: georgia;">Jo, or as he knew her, Anne Tower, quickly lunged for her abandoned clothes and rummaged through them in anger for her keys. When they weren't found in the first pile, she checked the others. <em>Nothing</em>. Ignoring the headache pounding between her ears, Joanne ripped the curtains back and looked down to where her bike had been parked. <em>Nothing</em>. "I'm gonna kill him," Joanne said in a more than calm manner. That vehicle was the only thing keeping her from being captured by the Cat Gang. And then it hit her—like a brick square in the forehead—her Rounds were in the saddle bags attached to the motorcycle! <br/><br/>Her life's work was gone with that man, and now he was in more trouble than ever before with those Rounds on him. Those things were like a damn beacon to those Cats and they'd do anything to get their hands on them, especially a certain one that was tucked away in a secret pouch; a beautiful, glittering, gold bullet as rare as they come with Joanne's calling card etched into it. It was a delicate blossom, so small the naked human eye wouldn't be able to spot, but a gunslinger's most definitely would spot the signature. <br/><br/>In a rush, Joanne hurriedly dressed with her guns wrapped around those wide hips and her rifle strapped to her back. What would she use to kill him? The rifle or the twins? "Rifle," she muttered to herself. Making her way down stairs to pay for the room knowing that the man who named himself 'Best in the West' would not have done so, she stopped at the counter. Slipping delicate hands into her pockets, Joanne found not a single dollar or gold coin, not even a single silver! The shocked look on her face alerted the front-desk man, Gary and he reached underneath the counter to draw out his weapon. "Someone call the Sheriff, we got one that ain't gonna pay up!" Joanne didn't draw out her guns just yet but held up her hands in a pleading fashion. <br/><br/>"Now I know this looks bad, mister. But listen, please. I was robbed by that man that came in with me. Took everything I owned, I swear!" The most temptingly pathetic look was shown in her eyes and Gary couldn't help but to soften for her. All too common was the story and the gentleman nodded while releasing his hold on a revolver. "Alright, but you come back and pay your debt or your gonna notice a nice little bounty on your head," the man said before nodding towards the door then returned to counting the names written down in a log book. 'Got a big enough bounty on my head already mister but the sentiment is appreciated,' Joanne mused around in her thoughts before hastily exiting the Saloon. The man that had been at the desk leaned over the wide obstacle to gawk at her backside before returning to his "work". After she had left, instead of going back to the logs, Gary had pulled out a magazine and turned it sideways to whistle low at the centerfold of Lady Magnificent. "Now why can't someone like her come into this Saloon sometime," he said while pulling at his tight collar.</span><br/>