Chapter Text
The sun beats down on your form as you walk cautiously through your town's main road. Delicate steps were accompanied by hypervigilant eyes swiveling left and right. The town of Copperhill, which was usually bustling at this time of day, was so silent you could probably hear a hairpin drop across the valley. Main Street looked practically abandoned save for the few shadows you could see through closed shutters. From an outsider's perspective, they would think there was a plague.
Well. That's one way to put it.
The 'plague' in question is the only thing aside from a natural disaster that could keep your town this desolate. A gang.
Well, calling them a gang would be a compliment. It was more of a ragtag team of bandits unified by their mutual sense of greed. They call themselves the Slickjaws. They showed up about a month or so ago, rose hell, and then decided to set up their base of operations right outside of town. This made Copperhill their go to for entertainment, money, anything really. And right around this time they would head this way, looking to stir up trouble. You've stayed out of their way so far and intend to keep it that way, but being out here was playing with fire. While the Slickjaw gang was nothing more than an over glorified group of thieves, a gun is a gun no matter which way you slice it. The very real possibility of staring down a barrel made the hair on the back of your neck stand on end.
So that raises the question: What in the hell were you doing out of the safety of your home when you knew they were coming? And to that, there was a simple answer.
You needed food.
Yep. The reason you were risking your life was for a bottle of apple cider vinegar, some beans, pork, and a few sorry chunks of jackrabbit you were able to convince Jericho to give you at a discounted price. It was better than nothing, but not much better than being left with a bullet in your skull from some trigger happy tenderfoot. But hey, you made this bed, and now you had to lie in it.
So here you were, in one of your dresses that was a little more decent than usual, shoes you knew you wouldn't be unhappy about losing in a chase, and your coin purse close to your chest as you walked. You kept your pace quick, but not so fast to draw eyes towards you. Well, more than there already were. You were walking in the middle of town all by yourself after all. That in itself put a target on your back. But you were hoping, praying even, that luck would be on your side and you could get home without incident. So far, all was well, so the belief that you were in the clear settled your frazzled nerves.
But of course, the fates always loved to have a laugh.
The unmistakable sound of horses sounded off behind you. Your heart seized in your chest, but you never faltered as you yielded to the lefthand side of the road. They weren't too close yet, just starting to get down Main Street. You hadn't looked behind you yet, so there was still the chance that it was just a group of cowboys looking for directions-
Wait, wasn't that horse getting a little close? Like close enough to run you over?
You whipped around right as a horse reared up on its back hooves less than a foot from your face. You're sent crashing onto your rear and your groceries scattering across the dirt. You hear the glass holding the vinegar shatter as the horse falls back down on all fours. Raucous laughter finally sets your fate in stone.
"Well, well, well, look what we have here boys!" The man on the creature's back jeered at you. He didn't bother getting off his horse, instead choosing to look down at you from on above. His beige stampede hat clashed with his dark chin length hair. The rest of his face was obscured by a bright yellow bandana. The man's teal eyes wrenched up in glee as he took in your defensive form. "Got ourselves a broad in need of some assistance."
The other men behind him whistled and laughed some more. You snapped out of your stupor and scrambled to your feet. Nervous eyes took in the situation you got yourself into. Men with bandanas covering their face? Check. All have bandoliers loaded with bullets and at least one gun? Check. Enough poisonous arrogance to kill a bull? Check. There was no way around it; they had to be Slickjaws. There were six of them, and they were all-fired ready to swing their bravados wherever they saw fit. Despite the dread settling into your bones, their haughtiness disgusts you. You face must reflect how you feel because as the man in front of you hops off his paint horse, he tuts at you placatingly.
"Now now, what's got your pretty face all twisted up?" He has the audacity to stroll up to you all lackadaisical and squish your cheeks together with a hand. "You aren't looking all blue 'cause of me, are ya?"
You jerk your head out of his hold and keep your eyes on the ground. Despite these men being, well, themselves, there was no need to start something unnecessarily. You weren't going to become a bootlicker anytime soon, but you would prefer to get out of this alive. You school your face into something more pleasant and look him in the eyes.
"Excuse my airs sir, but your horse nearly sent me and my rations straight to the grave." You kept your tone as light as you could. "Well, it seems they went on ahead without me anyways." A spared glance where you last saw your food tells you that it wasn't spared from the brunt of your fall and the hooves of his horse. You withhold an indignant huff.
"Well 'pardon my airs' little lady, but me and my boys just wanted to get a good look at ya, that's all." He gestures to his group of leering misfits who have all now dismounted. They stand behind the man in front of him, but their slimy gazes make your skin crawl. "And what a good look you are," He purrs at you, but it sounds like grinding metal to your ears. Somehow, by some miracle, you keep the polite smile on your face when he lifted your hand and kissed it. "You can call me Finn, sugar."
"Finn? The Finn?" Your voice trembled as you fought to keep your cool.
You thought the dread had set in when you first saw these thugs? That was a drop in the bucket compared to the abject horror that paled your face now. You were face to face with the biggest toad in the pond; the only man in the group who didn't blow smoke. Finn was the leader of the Slickjaws. He was known to burn down a whole town if someone looked at him wrong. And if his poor attempt at flattery was anything to go by, he took a liking to you. If you reject him now, you would be as good as dead. Hell, you were probably dead either way. He was downright crazy at times, and many of your fellow townsfolk have fallen by his hand.
You were so, so very dead.
Now that he lowered his bandana, you could see the smirk on his lips as he spoke. "I suppose you've heard of me then?" A tiny nod from you splits his lips in a full-blown smile. He still hasn't let go of your hand. "Smart and a beaut? Why, you're just as rare as a desert rose 'round these parts." You crack a tiny smile at the remark. It's not real at all, but it's the best you can give. If he noticed, he doesn't comment on it. "Now," He yanks your stumbling form into his own sweaty, dusty one before you can catch yourself. He leans towards your ear as you do exact opposite, wanting to escape his hold as quickly as you can. "Let me make things up to ya. We didn't mean to scare ya."
"Oh, it's no problem at all really," You've never danced out of man's hold so fast. An elegant twirl keeps him from throwing a fit while you feel like you can breathe again. "Flattery goes a long way with me. I don't even remember what happened." He still keeps that scarily tight grip on your hand, refusing to let you go anywhere. Your facade falters. You wanted out, and you wanted it now. You nervously swallow. "Finn, was it? It was a pleasure meeting you. I best be gettin' home now."
He chuckles dangerously at you. "Nah sugar, I don't think you're going anywhere." He pulls you into him again. You try to dig your heels into the dirt and twist out of his hold, but his hold only tightens as he his arm slithers across your waist. His once easygoing grin was now all teeth, ready to tear you apart. Shit. Your breath was picking up now, eyes wide as you desperately looked for an out.
"Don't do this." You breathed out in a half warning, half plea. When you were cornered, you were known to lash out like an animal. The men behind him were grinning like wolves surrounding a lamb. You couldn't take them in a fight. You knew you couldn't. Even though these were probably your last few moments alive, you sure as hell weren't going down without one. Finn scoffs.
"I can do whatever I damn well please." He snarls in your face. "There ain't a man alive that can stop me." And that was all you needed to hear.
Teeth bared, you throw your knee up as hard as you could, hitting him straight in the balls.
When he crumples, you stomp on his foot with your heel for good measure before hightailing it out of there. You intentionally kick up dust, hoping to get it in his eyes. There's no need for a glance back when you hear the cocking of guns and a yell of "Get that bitch!" once you turn down a walkway between buildings where horses can't fit. You know that isn't enough to lose them, so you keep going. A loud yelp comes from you when a bullet misses you by a mile and hits a sign swinging above. You make a quick turn and Main Street's barbershop.
Your breaths come out in harsh pants as nothing but adrenaline keeps you at a dead sprint. Gunfire cracks through the air like lightning as the thunder of boots behind force you to keep your pace. Great. Fantastic. It seemed like today was going to hell in a horse cart and it wasn't even your fault. Kind of. Sort of. You just wanted to buy food, and now you were running for your life with the leader of the Slickjaws hot on your tail. You can't help but be exasperated by the whole thing. Why is it trouble that always finds you? Why can't it be oil, or gold, or something pretty?
By this point, you ran all the way around Main Street to the other side. You were getting tired. You weren't built for this at all. They saw you dart across the open expanse trying to make it to the other side, but didn't know exactly where you were. You slowed a bit as you looked around. You were nearby the saloon, which had a back door to get inside. Perfect!
You dove inside, shushing Theriam who almost screeched in surprise. You curled up under a table, keeping an eye on the window above you as the gang reconvened back in the middle of town.
"Didja find her?" You heard Finn ask one of his goons. There's a pause. "Ya can't even find one broad in the middle of daylight?" Another pause. A sudden explosion of sound makes you slam your hands over your ears. What can only be assumed as a body hits the window, making your blood run cold. The smell of gunpowder and burnt flesh fills the horrified silence. "It's fine." Finn says simply after no hesitation. "If she won't come out, then we'll just smoke her out."
"Ya here that little lady? If ya don't come out, we'll burn this whole place to the ground!" He calls out into the dry air. Shit. He's not serious is he? For Chrissake, he just shot one of his own, of course he's serious! A foreboding sense of doom filled you as you glanced at Thieram helplessly. You liked living here, and you liked the people too. You'd made a name for yourself by being kind and a hard-working seamstress. If you protected Copperhill by going out there, you were dead as a doornail, and that wasn't ideal. But on the other hand, everyone dying was even less so. There wasn't even a guarantee he wouldn't wipe Copperhill off the map either. You gripped your head, stressed the hell out. This whole situation is going to the dogs. The dilemma you had was eating you alive, and there wasn't enough time. You reached up to look out the window to see Finn and his boys with unlit Molotov cocktails in hand. This was it. There was nothing you could do but come clean and mentally mark your spot in the boneyard. Goddamnit. This was the worst. Tears stung in your eyes as you crawled towards the door.
"Last chance, trick. Where ya hiding?" You took a deep breath- the last one you'll ever take- and stared at Slickjaw's backs as you stood. From the corner of your eye, you dully noted another figure on a horse. Probably another gang member that looked around town for you. Although, weirdly enough, they seemed to be keeping out of sight. You squinted at them as they expertly guided their horse along shadows, blending in where the afternoon sun couldn't reach. Something in the back of your mind tells you to keep your mouth shut. You watch the mystery figure hunker down in a spot that hid them and their horse from view.
How odd.
"Alright boys, time's up. Let's light 'em up!"
Shit. You were supposed to turn yourself in!
The Slickjaws cheered as the flicked open their lighters. Before they could set the cloth aflame, a sharp whistle aimed their focus towards the figure, now fully in the light. It was a woman on the horse, and her gun was aimed right at the group.
And she didn't have a bandana on.
"She's right here, motherfucker."
A flurry of bullets flew from her revolver, tagging Slickjaws left and right. You had to duck for cover again, covering your head from the shattered glass raining down on you. For better or for worse, you kept yourself pressed low as a full on gunfight broke out in the middle of Main Street. You never thought your quiet little town would be the main focus of things only told in stories, let alone you being the driving force behind it. Thankfully, or maybe not, it ended quicker than you expected it to. After a few minutes, the only thing you could hear was a passing breeze. Your gaze trailed to Thieram, who had also hit the deck. With a couple of glances pointing towards the door and windows, you silently asked if there was anyone left out in the street. He gave a confused and panicked shrug as if to say 'how should I know?' was no help.
"Y'all alright in there?" An unfamiliar gravelly voice calls out as the quarter horse you saw earlier pokes its head through the now shattered glass of the front door. You and Thieram scream in surprise as the poor horse pins its ears back and backs away, huffing and snorting. Your mystery savior comes into view and gently tugs on the reins, steadying her. "Go easy girl. That's it." With a mechanical hand, she pets the mare's neck. What the hell...? You watch in apprehension as the woman hops of the horse with practiced ease and strides towards you looking flabbergasted on the floor. She opens the door and extends out a hand, a flesh and bone one this time, for you to take. You slowly, cautiously, put your hand in hers. Your fingers slide over calloused fingers that come from years of hard work, which makes you all the more curious about this stranger. She gently pulls you to your feet, making sure you were balanced before letting go. She seems so calm now, and everything is quiet...so does that mean...? You turn from the woman who has now taken her black Stetson off her head to look outside.
A quick look was all that was necessary to see that all six men were in grisly pools of blood mixed with dirt. In favor of not losing your meal (again), you jerked your head back to the mystery woman who walked farther into The Last Drop. Her hat was now placed on her chest as a sign of remorse towards Theiram.
"'M sorry about messin' up your saloon, barkeep. Hope I can make it up to ya by paying extra for some lodgings for the next few days." Her lackadaisical demeanor about killing six men that she probably didn't know should appall you. But instead, you couldn't help but stare. You were drinking up the new sight of the choppy cut her coal black hair was styled in. A another breeze from outside lifted her hair just so, revealing an undercut beneath. The rest of her short hair curtained her face in such a way that emphasized her jaw and strong nose. It wasn't like it was some revolutionary new hairstyle that she came up with herself; It was far from it, really. You knew Ran right up the way had the same style. But on her it felt...different. Intriguing. All of her could be described that way honestly. The way she walked, the way she talked, all of it was like she took advantage of your natural curiosity by simply being. And if her wayward glance to you while she was waffling to Thieram about god knows what was any inclination, she knew that just as well as you.
"And I reckon I have an apology to make to you too, miss." You flounder for a moment once she fully turns those piercing grey eyes to you and dips her head low in remorse.
"Apologize? What for? You saved my life! Finn was all about to turn my hide into a rug!" You blurt out, incredulous. She smirks at you in such a way that halts you from speaking any more. Well, it was more like her tooth gap did. Another thing that draws you to her. She leans back to her full height that you now realize looms over your form with an amused expression on her face.
"Well, if you'd let me finish miss, I could tell ya." You huff indignantly at her sass, but don't say any more. "First, I arrived in town before that gang and watched 'em give you a hard time. Without doin' nothin'." The notion makes you cross your arms and furrow your brows.
"What, you thought watchin' me get pushed around by a bunch of dogs was funny to you?" You snap at the imposing woman, momentarily forgetting she was a person who seemingly had no problem ending another's life. But instead of you staring down the barrel of her six-shooter, she only chuckles at your temper.
"Not at all," She drawls as she places her hat back on her head. "Had to survey the situation. See how many of 'em there were, who they were, the like. Best way to do that is when they're distracted. It made my blood boil to see it was you that what was holdin' their attention." The reassurance placated you somewhat, but the fact you were used as bait still rubbed you the wrong way. You uncrossed your arms and motioned for her to continue.
"Secondly, I scared you with my horse." She gestures to the mount still standing patiently outside. The only thing indicating that the creature wasn't a statue was the shifting of her ears this way and that.
"And third," While your attention was diverted to the dark mare, the mystery woman gently grabs your hand. She gives you ample time to snatch it away, but you don't. You were still trying to show her you were upset at her by ignoring her. "I should be apologizin' for cussin' in front of a lady such as yourself." She leans down and ghosts her plush lips on the back of your hand. You should have taken your hand back. You should've recoiled immediately as soon as she reached for it. You should have done what you wanted to do to Finn and sock this overtly confident woman in the jaw since she (probably) had no balls to kick. But instead, what's left of your irritation fizzles away without your permission. No matter how hard you try, you can't muster up the ability to mad at her. The thought makes your face burn and your mouth opens and closes like a fish.
"I-I....Um..."
Her lips twitch up into a smile at your momentary paralysis, seeming to thoroughly enjoy halting your brain in its tracks. What in the Sam Hill is going on with me? Shaking your head to recover, you pull your hand out of her hold to put it haughtily on your hip. A flippant hand causes her to stand back to her full height once more.
"I-I'll accept your apologies if you tell me your name, stranger." Your tone is nonchalant in an effort to not betray your inner turmoil. Man, your acting skills were putting in the work today, weren't they? She quirks an eyebrow. You pray she doesn't see through your facade. If she does, she doesn't mention it.
"Sevika."
You try the name out on your tongue. As you familiarize yourself with it, Sevika brushes past you to head to Thieram who is now standing behind the bar again. Your brows furrow again as her heavy steps creak on the floor beneath her feet.
"Ain't you gonna ask me for mine?" Sevika pauses but doesn't turn back to you.
"Nah, I think that can wait till next time you come find me." She sits herself at a stool and murmurs at Thieram to prepare her a drink. Your nose wrinkles in confusion. That troublesome anger you have flares at the assumption.
"What makes you think I'll do that?" You snark at her. A brown drink is placed in front of her, and she takes a sip before speaking.
"I don't think. I know you will."
The arrogance of this woman makes you scoff and roll your eyes. She was capable and strong, sure, but that know-it-all attitude soured her whole persona. It was now pissing you off to now end. You stomp out of The Last Drop - careful to step over the corpses - and into town. She was no better than Finn and his goons. Or...what was left of them. You take care to wipe the blood on the bottom of your shoes into the dust. While you were thankful for the renegade that saved your life, you were certain of one thing.
"There's no way in hell I'm goin' back in there." You mutter under your breath as you hustle home.
That is, what you thought until you walked back into the Last Drop no less than twenty four hours later.