"Misty. Lexi. Hmmm, now these two sure look like a pair of troublesome varmints.."
The large WANTED poster in my gloved hands reveals the photographs of two very lovely women, with some bold text beneath their pictures promising one handsome reward to anyone who captures them. Alive, that is. The poster was dropped onto my desk this mornin', byway of Barksdale, which is a good two or three days worth of travel from ol' Cattyville. The good folks over at Barksdale can usually handle their own, so it's bit surprising when they let a pair of outlaws slip thru their borders. Then again, these two aren't just any regular sort of outlaws. They're two of the most notorious bitches around these parts, or so they say. Been hearin' a lot about these two harlots recently, and how they take what they want, do whatever they like, and that nobody can stop em' or catch em'. Well, that's nice and all, but not real original. I've been dealin' with outlaws like these brats for a long time now, bad women and men who all have that nasty reputation followin' em around like the scent of maneuver on your horses' hooves. And they all end up sharin' the same fate, hogtied in my jail cell.
My rapt green eyes studies the pictures for a moment longer..Lexibabe and her lil' pal Mistycats. As dangerous as they seem, they sure are a pair of lookers..lovely ladies for sure, but their damn fine looks ain't foolin' me. They may not look so bad, but I can spot a devious minx a mile away, and these two have that look about em' that just screams that they're gonna be a handful. Nothin' I can't handle, I reckon.
With a sigh I toss the piece of paper onto my desk, my hand reaching for my cowgirl hat, putting it on as I rise to my feet and saunter over to my office window which overlooks Main street. It's turned out to be an awfully quiet, sort of a lazy kinda day, so I kept my wavy, voluminous platinum hair down so it hangs to my shapely waist behind my shoulders. The Marshal hasn't returned yet, I figure she'll be outta town til the end of the week. That damn woman's been on my case about how I need a deputy, and if I don't pick one soon she'll pick one for me. Well, at least I don't have to worry about her for the next couple of days. Those troublesome brats over at the Silk Stocking Club have been behavin' themselves, thank goodness. The bank and saloon's been running smoothly as well, no trouble brewin' there. Tho I did hear something about a drifter who's checked into the hotel very recently. That new girl over at the blacksmith's now comes to mind. Now she's a sweet lil' thing, but there's something about her that I can't put my finger on.. Don't know what to make of it, really, maybe I oughta pay that girl a visit today, get to know her. Been getting reports of Indians sighted along our town borders, too. Maybe I oughta ride out to Jo's ranch and see if she's seen anything unusual. Tho, I don't know if she'll give me the time of day. That there's another girl with trouble written all over her. Her and I, we get along just fine, and then there are days, plenty of days, when we don't.
A part of me kinda hopes that she won't play nicely, in fact that part of me wants something, anything, to start kickin' up a storm today. It's been far too quiet in a regularly 'busy' town like this and while upholdin' the law is of the utmost importance, ya can't blame lil' ol' me for wantin' a bit of excitement.
I turn back to my desk and grab two coiled up lassos, attaching them to the belt slung low on my shapely hips so they hang alongside my holstered silver six-shooters. The sunlight streaming in thru the window bounces off the shiny sheriff star pinned over the right lapel of my undone vest. A white corset and matching skirt hug my firm breasts and smooth hips, while black fishnets run up my strong, toned legs and white cowgirl boots adorn my feet. White gloves, my holsters and a pink bandanna knotted around my neck complete my attire. The old floorboards creak beneath my boots as I move to the door of the office, stepping out into the hot sunlight. Scanning the mostly empty, dusty street, I wander on over to my horse when something catches my eye. A howling breeze pushes by me and kicks up some dust, and I squint my eyes and stare across the road. Someone's rode into town, someone who looks real familiar.. My eyes widen, a smirk lights up my face.
"Well, I'll be.."
I watch the trim girl in a buckskin shirt and pants slide off her golden horse in one smooth motion, watching her carefully as she turns to notice me. There's a fair bit of distance between us but there's no doubt as to who this newcomer is. I lick my lips and make my way toward her, a look of confidence etched onto my face, never taking my eyes off of this dark-haired lady. She stands her ground, waiting for me to get close.. And I get real close, enough so that when I stop walking I'm standing about a foot or two across from her. My right hand moves subtly over to the handle of my six-shooter, my left hand visibly caressing the coiled up lasso on my left hip. My eyes locked dead onto hers.
"Howdy, ma'am. I'm Sheriff Tiffany, an' it's a real pleasure to meet ya.. I reckon I haven't seen ya around these parts..tell me somethin', sugar. Did ya enjoy your stay over at Barksdale?"
