<span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: georgia;"><strong>Somewhere in the Desert...</strong></span><br/><hr/><br/><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: georgia;">That bosom was more than prominent as The Designer leaned over the driver's window and gave the man sitting in the truck that sultry smile. Brown eyes were just fixed on the swollen pair, focusing in on the deep shadow between her cleavage. Dean could feel his thighs quivering from the thoughts that were entering his mind. 'Oh Dear Lord, God has blessed you child,' he thought to himself while still holding that lecherous gaze. Dean was a Man of God, but with a woman like this, he'd be more than happy to become a Sinner. He swallowed thickly and tore his eyes away from the beautiful sight and returned her smile charmingly. Perhaps in his younger years Dean was quite the prospective bachelor, but the years on Eastwood were never kind to anyone and he had aged into a shadow of his former glory. <br/><br/>"So, Mister Dean, can ya help a girl out? Like I said, I don't have any money on me but I am sure," Joanne said while eying his body in a suggestive manner, " ... that I can find some sort o'way to repay you for givin' me a lift". Dean's tongue lashed out and licked chapped lips in his apparent wanting of this stranger woman. The offer was just too good to be true! <br/><br/>"Well of course ma'am. Can't leave a pretty lady like you out here in the desert all alone. I would hate for something God awful to happen to you out here while on your lonesome. Hope on in baby girl," Dean replied while nodding to the passenger seat. Joanne gave a little excited squeal and bounced on the balls of her feet to jiggle her chest in front of Dead which made him swallow again. 'Good God Almighty...' <br/><br/>Joanne trotted on over to the other side of the vehicle and hopped right into the truck before Dean put the truck into gear. As soon as the man started down the road again, Joanne looked over at him and smiled. "I really can't thank you enough for giving me a ride, Dean, but ..." <br/><br/>"Hm," he questioned in a hum while passing a glance over to her. As soon as she was in the edges of his vision, all he saw was a strong fist coming for his face, and then felt the blunt force of being caught with a right jab to his cheek. The momentum carried him over to hit his head on the frame of his door, and Dean suddenly felt himself falling while the sound of his tires grew more loud. 'What the?!', was Dean's last thought before he collided with desert sand and rolled several feet, lucky enough to miss being run over by his own truck. <br/><br/>Joanne pressed the gas pedal and plucked what used to be Dean's aviators off the dashboard and set them on her nose. A little smirk played around the edges of her lips while speeding off further into the desert following faint tracks left behind from her motorcycle. Holding his cheek, Dean sat up and squinted against the sun and watched as that sexy woman made off with his vehicle. "This is what I get for sinning, isn't it, Old Man," he asked God before releasing a long sigh and lifting himself to follow after that woman on foot in the hot desert heat. </span><br/><br/><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: georgia;"><strong>The Dead Horse Saloon</strong></span><br/><hr/><br/><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: georgia;">Blue eyes drifted down to the guns that were at the man's side as soon as his hands rose up in the air in a surrendering gesture. Those were definitely not Wilson's and this man was no gunslinger. He was full of nothing but lies. There was absolutely no way this man The Drifter was holding up could have killed Gun, even if her old mentor had been piss drunk. Listening to the sounds of each and every gun being pulled on her and others, The Drifter sighed to herself silently. This situation was just not worth getting shot over, and she would hate to shoot Lady Mag, too. <br/><br/>"Alright, y'all can fight over this man," The Drifter said while withdrawing her gun from him, though never tucking it back into its leather holster," He's nuthin' but a liar. Those guns ain't Wilson's and he's been lyin' this whole time to all o'ya'll. If ya don't believe me, you can ask that there girl over there to show the gun that she juss stole from 'im," the gunslinger said while carelessly gesturing over to <strong>Apryl</strong>. "They ain't got Wilson's mark on 'em an' Ah ain't gonna get shot over some silly man pretendin' to be the 'Best in the West'."<br/><br/>The Drifter turned slightly to Lady Mag and gave her a 'What the Hell' expression before saying, "You were really gonna shoot me? Thought you liked me a bit more than that, Lady. An' what the hell was with the lights? You always gotta be so flashy, Lady?" The gunslinger walked away from the debacle and stopped at <strong>Meytir's </strong>side for a moment and shoved his aiming arm downward. "Put it away 'fore you get hurt, stranger. You ain't messin' with stupid people here," The Drifter said before passing a glance back to the stand off. "Alright well, not the brightest people, but they're all dangerous". Walking to a barstool, the woman set her little self down and propped up elbows on the counter to rub at her temples while she leaned forward. <br/><br/>'Why do Ah always get into these situations, and where the hell is Gun if this man is a fake?' she thought to herself while regretting ever stepping foot in this town. God, she needed another shot of whiskey, or two, maybe three or four. Hell, a whole handle wouldn't make her mood better.</span><br/>