First Chap

Charlie Rose drew up her bandanna, covering her face from both the sand that was flying through the air and the people she would soon come in contact with. Her horse slowed down its pace and the colored woman sitting behind her wrapped her arms even tighter around Charlie's waist. “I don't know about this, Missy” The colored woman muttered under her breath. “Shut your mouth, Marsha” Charlie grunted and wanted to elbow the older woman. She thought against it, knowing that she was only saying this because she had been with Charlie for so long that the woman must have started to care for her. “If I wanted your opinion I would have asked for it before we crossed state-lines.” The mahogany brown horse they were on trotted forward, towards a small town in the vast distance that appeared to be only a speckle of dirt. But, with every minute that passed, the town became bigger and wider. “You shouldn't do this, Missy” Marsha murmured and shook her head. “You don't want to live with other people's blood on your hands. It haunts you for the rest of your life.” “It won't haunt me as much as that asshole does” Charlie told her and turned her head in her direction, although not turning around enough to see her face. “You don't know what it's like” She mumbled and looked back to the town they were slowly approaching. “You weren't there when he killed them.” Her mind unwillingly led her back to the events that happened ten years ago. She had just left the dinner table to go play in the other room when a man at six-foot-two with a protruding stomach kicked the door down guns a blazing. Charlie had been so scared she ran into the other room and hid under a couch while the man killed her parents and brother, who had still been eating their dinner. At that time she hadn't taken up the name Charlie, then she was just Rose Davis. She snapped out of her thoughts half a mile away from the town, just in time. She motioned for Marsha to hop off, because if they would be seen riding on a horse together, Charlie would be considered a nigger-lover and they would be chased out of town before even stepping off. Marsha didn't mind, she knew how this worked as she had been with Charlie for five years now. She had been beaten severely and left to die at some street-corner when the twelve-year old girl with a mule and a hat too big for her head walked past. Charlie had let her come with her to a room that she was renting, and with her help, Marsha had gotten her strength back and healed nicely aside from the small limp she still carried to this day, and had been in debt with the girl ever since. If it weren't for Charlie's thirst for blood, Marsha would be out on the streets or, even worse, just another nigger buried in the mud. They entered the town quietly. The people who were out on this sunny Sunday morning stared at them with wonder as they passed them and Charlie got apprehensive. She was afraid they would see past her disguise as a male and report her to the man, whom would drag her by her hair to the middle of town and shoot her in the head. That was, at least, how she always dreamed it would happen when she had nightmares about him. Despite of having only seen that man once, his face had bored into her mind's core and was engraved there probably for all eternity. Charlie hadn't planned on getting out from under that couch ever, all those years ago, she had planned on just staying there until she would die from starvation. But, her plan had failed miserably when the family next door took her in. They were childless, and although struck by shock for their neighbors' death, they were happy to finally get to raise a child of their own. In those five years Charlie lived there, she only thought about running away and killing that man. Finally, one quiet night when she was twelve, she snuck out her window and hasn't been seen since in that city in West Virginia. Again, Charlie was snapped out of her thoughts when Marsha made the horse stop. They had arrived to their destination; to the middle of the town. Charlie got off and walked to the nearby saloon while Marsha went to tie the horse up with all the other ones. The saloon was filled with drunken men, all laughing and singing songs she didn't know, and making passes at the waitresses who worked their asses off trying to please them. Charlie was glad she didn't have to work like those girls, she had seen to that when she ran away to take as much money as she could carry. That money had lasted her for so long, though, that was mostly because she almost never spent it. She saved up as much as she could, making due with what she got from it; sleeping outside, drinking from rivers that were sometimes filthy, having to steal and scavenge for food. The first thing Charlie bought when she ran away was a mule after the horse she took suddenly dropped dead in the middle of the Nevada desert. Charlie walked up to the bar, had to elbow her way through the crowd, and again was happy she didn't spend so much of her money because then she wouldn’t be able to rent a room anywhere. She was scrawny for never having enough food and that was a good and a bad thing; good, because she didn’t have those curves that a regular woman would, and bad, because it was easy to knock her around. The barkeep walked to her, the unknown person standing by his bar, and asked her what she wanted. “I need a room” She answered, keeping her voice low and muttered. The old man told her he had a couple of those and shrugged. Charlie sighed quietly, he had not seen through her disguise. No one had. Yet, she thought to herself and asked how much for staying in one of those for a couple of days. “Five dollars the night” The man told her. She paid up and he handed her a key and pointed to the stairs. “The last room on the left corridor” The barkeep told her, his white moustache moving up and down as he spoke. Charlie nodded and thanked him. She pushed herself off the bar and started elbowing her way towards the stairs. It was noon and the three dozen men in there were all having a party. Charlie curled her lip and tried to avoid getting too close to these men. She got spilled on three times just as she made her way to the stairs. She almost got spit up on as she walked up the stairs and then there was the corridor upstairs. Men and women pushing past her, going either to the doors on both sides of her or going downstairs. The women were all wearing loose dresses that showed off as much cleavage as they could without showing the whole breast and the men were almost all fixing their trousers and belts. No doubt that these women were prostitutes. When Charlie finally reached her room and closed her door behind her, she thought she had reached serene nihility. The room was dark, the only window in there was covered by a thick, dark curtain, and cool. Much to the opposite of downstairs. Also, adverse to downstairs, inside was quiet. There were faint sounds of the outside, but only vague singing and thumping. Charlie closed her eyes and sighed, letting herself enjoy the peace, as it was the highlight of her whole week. She snapped herself out of her relaxation when she remembered what she was doing and opened her eyes again. She needed to be focused on her task; finding the man who murdered her family and bring him to justice. The room was small; consisted only of a bed and a door which led to a bathroom. There was no chair or sofa for Marsha to sleep in so Charlie decided they would have to sleep together in that bed, which looked like it could fit two people, but no more than two. She sat down on the bed and took off both her bandanna and hat, revealing her full facial features to the mirror in front of her. She pursed her lips and took a good look at herself. She felt like her cheekbones had gotten bigger and her cheeks more hollow since the last time she saw herself. She wasn't sure if that made her pretty or not. She wasn't even sure what pretty was anymore, after having been cut off from society for so long, running away from big towns and cities while she was on the hunt for that man. Her brown eyes made her seem much older and more mature, a cynical sparkle in them that only veterans carried, people who had fought for their lives and been through hell and back. Her blonde hair was getting brown after not having showered for so long, she couldn't even remember when. I'm gonna have to ask Marsha to cut it again, she thought to herself and brushed the thick, knotted locks that were reaching down to her stomach, behind her shoulder. She wanted to undress, crawl under the covers and take a long nap. Such a long nap that when she'd wake up again all her troubles would have disappeared, along with her anger and hatred, and the man would be dead in a grave somewhere. But, Charlie held back. She still needed to do so much before she would let herself sleep. So, she stood up, got her hat and bandanna back and walked to the window. She put both on and then parted the curtain so she could peer through. The first thing she saw outside was a man. He seemed to be in his twenties, looked tall and had hair as light as the Nevada desert. He strode past the little houses and shops that made a strip through the middle of town, and Charlie's eyes followed him every step of the way until he disappeared into the saloon. He was quite handsome. His image bore into her skull and stuck to her mind, replaying his walk around town again and again. The more she thought about him the more she noticed about him in details. Like he had icy blue eyes and a stubble, something that she had looked past when she saw him first. Like the fact that the gun tucked in his belt was a Colt 45, a gun that was getting more and more widespread throughout the country. She had a Colt Walker, just like her father. “I don't have time for this” She mumbled to herself and backed away from the window. She knew if she was going to find the man that murdered her family, she would have to go out and look for him. Not wait until he would fall into her lap. That only happened in the stories she had been read to as a child. Charlie pushed all of those thoughts out of her head, as she found it irrelevant thinking about the past. She told herself that nostalgia was a weakness and a distraction that she didn't afford to have. I have to find him here, she thought to herself as she walked across the room, towards the door. She really had to, because she was finally running low on money. If she would be extra careful and smart, then maybe she could make out staying here for a week, but not longer. A week would be the longest Charlie had ever stayed in a town, let alone rented a room, and she hoped this would be the last. The last on this borrowed money anyway. She cleared her mind, straightened her back and left the room. As Charlie walked down the small corridor, brushing past men and women alike who were either going in or out of the other rooms, she wondered what was happening that was so special as to go and party on a Sunday morning. She walked down the stairs, her eyes scanning the environment below, but quickly regretted it. The first thing her eyes caught was another pair of eyes, staring directly at her. It was the man she had watched come in here. He was sitting by a table near the bar, and sitting with him were a couple of men and whores. The blond man had his arms around two whores, sitting on each side of him and they were all laughing. Charlie looked down and got even more apprehensive. The last thing she desired was being noticed, because being noticed would mean recognized and pointed out, and that could not happen. Not until she had found the man she was going to kill and being ready with a solid plan to bring him down. She kept her head low and eyes down as she elbowed and wriggled through the crowd which seemed to get even bigger by the passing minute. Charlie was so happy when she got outside that she wanted to kiss the sandy ground. She found Marsha immediately, she was standing with the horses, talking to two other colored people, a man and a woman. The man was roughly her age but the woman was younger, probably in her late-twenties. “Marsha!” Charlie called out, trying so hard to make her voice sound low. Marsha's head snapped in Charlie's direction and saw the young woman motion for her to meet her in a nearby alley-way, by the way she moved her head in that direction, then she turned to the two people, told them something and walked to where Charlie had pointed her to meet her. Charlie was already there when Marsha arrived. “I got us a room upstairs on the saloon, so you'll have to sneak in there when no one can see you” She told the woman. Marsha nodded and Charlie could see something was occupying her mind, something more important than these white people prejudices. “What is it?” She asked and cocked her head to the side. “There is an event celebrated here, every year, called Shoot-Out Week. It starts on the third and ends on the tenth” Marsha told her, her eyes becoming dark as if she expected a horrible menace to come out of her words. “All right” Charlie nodded and wondered why she was telling her this. “Today's the third” Marsha said somberly. “And the man that came up with this is the mayor.” “The mayor?” Charlie repeated. “And is he-?” Marsha nodded. “That's what the niggers think.” “How would they know?” Charlie asked dubious and arched a brow. “I didn't tell them your story but I didn't need to. This man that the niggers described fits your family’s murderer perfectly” Marsha told her. Charlie raised a dubious brow and thought things through. “And what happens on this Shoot-Out Week ?” She asked and chewed on her inner cheek. “The men challenge whoever they want to a duel and it ends up with the population half-empty for all the men that got killed in this” Marsha answered and curled her lip. “And are you sure that my parents' murderer is the one who made this 'contest'?” “Aren't you?” She asked and raised her brows. Charlie stayed emotionless. “Yeah, I'm very sure that the mayor killed your parents and I'm even more sure that he made all of this up as one sick game.” “All right” Charlie said but Marsha could hear that she wasn't satisfied. “I'm gonna have to meet this sadist and see for myself.”