A Lethal Lady
Chapter 1

Town of Coloma, 1850

The relentless Arizona sun could heat the water in a metal bucket placed outdoors in the middle of the desert in seconds. From the rocks you could see the steam rising from them, adding to the merciless heat. Walking barefoot on the scorching earth and stone was not an option. But when a person's life was in danger, and only one jump away from death, there was no choice but to walk, even if his feet were traversing hell itself. Even so, by the time that soul in pain got help, surely his feet would have no salvation, and possibly, even his body could not bear so much heat and pain.

Rouse, thought long and hard to take another step on that path of dirt and sharp rocks. Every time she moved her feet, she felt as if she was walking on a pile of ashes still burning.

The blonde looked down at her bare feet on the yellowish, sour, dry earth, they were dirty, burned, and badly bruised. She wasn't sure how much more she could take, down in that inhuman sun, but she would give her last breath to replace someone to help her. Well, if they didn't replace her first and end up killing her....

The lady looked up, and realized that she was beginning to see something blurry. That was not good, if she continued advancing like that, she would faint at any moment. And in the middle of the arid desert, and with such an embracing heat, she would probably die right there, becoming food for the vultures.

She tried to swallow saliva, but it was useless, her throat was so dry that it hurt like hell just to try it... a little hot breeze sneaked through her already torn and quite worn petticoats. For an instant she thought the draft would ease her aches and pains, and soothe the heat, on the contrary, it only increased the intensity of the temperature.

Rouse stopped for a moment, trying to get some air for her lungs. She was so tired, every strand of her hair ached. Suddenly, a terrible dry cough attacks her, which makes her bend a little, from the impact, the blonde spits some blood that falls directly on the ground, which is quickly absorbed by the desperate ground.

-Damn! -She exclaims, wiping her lips with the back of her hand.

She lifts her face as she lets out a sigh, she needed medical attention before she was consumed by death. Deciding to take the road once again, the young woman leaves one of her hands on her rib, which did not stop bleeding. This caused the reddish liquid to slide down her body and end up leaving traces in the ground.

It wasn't good for him to leave a trail of blood behind him, it would be facial to replace it. But he didn't have the strength to cover the path with dirt, he needed to get as far away as possible and replace shelter before night fell. If that happened, a coyote could replace her, and in her condition... well, you wouldn't have to be very smart to know what would happen.

-Damn it, I must get out of this desert alive," she insisted, as she advanced at a snail's pace.

Every step was torture, but at least it brought her closer to somewhere, where someone could tend to her wounds.

So, with the sun at its peak, Rouse continued walking along that path of cracked earth looking for someone to help her.

[...]

Shouting, bustling, glass bottles breaking, and the sound of banging were all that could be heard inside James Webb's Saloon. He owned it, and every day he witnessed fight after fight from the men who frequented the bar.

That afternoon, a couple of guys were fighting for the attention of one of the waitresses, who, if you gave her a few extra coins, would do s****l favors for you. This was a common occurrence in the Saloon, the women who served the drinks also sold themselves for a few coins to survive.

The place was not suitable for certain decent gentlemen, such as those who had families waiting for them at home. However, not everyone who frequented James's bar wanted the favors of these women who were

the favors of these women who were despised by society. Many of these customers preferred to drink a bourbon (the local whiskey) and then return home.

But just that day, a couple of drunks happened to notice the same slut. And both ended up falling to blows, to see who would win the woman's favor. The old wooden tables, almost rickety, were smashed by these guys who kept hitting each other in the face. The rest of the customers, seeing the fight, decided to join in instead of stopping the brawl.

Of course, this was very common in the Saloon...

Then, all the men started to make a fuss and all because of the women's skirts.

At that instant, when the girls began to scream with desperation and some drama included, the doors of the Saloon were opened. The thunderous sound produced by the rusty hinges of the door echoed throughout the saloon, drawing the attention of everyone present. Except for the first two rowdies who started the fight.

At that moment, the clatter of the detonation of a revolver stopped the two men from hitting each other.

-It's Sheriff Wesley! -One of the women, who was cornered with the others in a corner of the bar, shouted.

-I've told you a thousand times, I don't want any more fights in this place," she says while she keeps her gun in the holster attached to her jeans. Didn't I make myself clear? -He lifts his hat a little, but without letting his eyes be seen. James, which one of these has started it?

-It was this one, sheriff.

Tom looks at the man standing up, the sheriff denies as he looks at his tattered attire.

-You know the laws, you'll spend the whole night in the cell. So walking.

-You can't take me alone, this one's picked a fight with me too, sheriff," Tom looks at the man's yellowed teeth.

-I don't intend to make a fuss in my precinct, I'll take you alone. Let's go.

With a tip of his hat, Tom Wesley bids farewell to James the bartender. Then he grabs the troublemaker by the shoulder and shoves him out of the Saloon.

Tom was a stand-up guy, he wasn't intimidated by anyone, he was fair, and best of all, he wasn't a crooked sheriff. All the previous sheriffs had been corrupt, turning the town into a place full of outlaws and bandits, for that reason the town of Coloma opted to hold a new vote and elect another sheriff.

Wesley ended up winning, and since then, he became the best sheriff the town could have. He was respected, and since he was in charge, no bandit would ever come to town to bother or extort money from anyone.

All the inhabitants survived by raising cattle, very few were those who ventured to work in the mines in the distant villages. And when they left, they never returned. But those who resided in Coloma subsisted on cattle and the few orchards that some citizens owned and managed to maintain.

The land was so dry that very few vegetables were grown. Until at least the dry season was over, when the rains came, things were looking up for the people.

Tom took the prisoner directly to the only cell he had in his police station, it was a small town, but many crimes were committed, therefore, the prisoners had to be content to share the same cell. For that reason, he could not take the other guy out of the fight, there was nothing to be gained by separating them in the Saloon, if in the cell it would be the same story.

-Sheriff, listen to me, it is not necessary for me to do this.

-Walk, I don't want to hear your complaints -Push the man.

They were both walking down the center of the narrow street, from side to side you could get a glimpse of the few establishments. The sheriff's station was at the end of the same sandy street, Tom was taking his prisoner to lock him up for at least a day, he would give him a lesson for picking a fight with another guy.

The sheriff was of the opinion that laws were made to be obeyed, not disobeyed... and since those same laws were the ones he imposed, everything would be done as he himself had ordered.