Chapter Text
Shin Hati rode into Calico at dawn. She wasn’t sure how long she had been riding or where she was going, all she knew was that once she started, she couldn’t stop and well, here she was. She had heard of the golden west—towns that propped up in the remnants of the gold rush, populated by those fleeing the Civil War, and then after the war had passed people just stayed. It was a freer place, free from the ghosts of the east and the confines of what society remained from America’s days beneath the British. Shin had always found life in the east to be restricting. But that was a problem of hers no more. In the decade or so since the war, Shin had gotten herself into a number of troubles under the guidance of her uncle—usually involving robbing people blind, dueling deputies, and in Shin’s case, getting far too close to the wives of farmers and gentlemen alike.
But Baylan was not here now, no. Shin had stolen her horse in the middle of the night with nothing but a pack on her back and the clothes she had on her. The inkling to run had been growing on her for years—she yearned for a permanent life somewhere, to find honest work as a cowboy or farmhand, and live peacefully. She didn’t want to hurt people any more. That being said, she would if she had to.
She trots into an empty town, dust restless at the hooves of her horse, the dark of dawn still lingering. A low whistle draws her attention as the sun rises above the dirt town ahead of her. She pulls the reins—her black horse named Pepper (for the spattering of white spots across her face, of course) comes to a halt, hooves scraping against the dirt road as the dust settles around Shin.
Even in the low morning, the heat is prominent, but Shin supposes that’s what she gets for running away in the dead of August, right when the desert heat is at its most merciless. Her smooth brown cowboy hat rests atop her blonde locks, the hair chopped just above her shoulders. When she was younger, she had it cropped close to her ears so Baylan could pass her off as a boy, but the older she got, the harder it was to hide. The clothes stuck, but she let her hair grow out every now and then. Her shirt is a deep green tucked into her denim jeans, a brown vest thrown over it, unbuttoned. Holstered in her vest is her pistol, ready to be drawn at a moment’s notice. She gets the prickle up her neck that tells her that might be soon. She’s always had a knack for sensing danger.
“Can I ask what your business is here in Calico?” a steady drawl comes from one of the buildings. As the dust clears, Shin sees a woman leaning against a wooden pillar holding up the overhang that rests above a wooden porch. It’s a saloon, although Shin isn’t sure what type of woman would be lingering around a saloon at dawn. Admittedly, Shin is intrigued.
It doesn’t help that the woman is—well, certainly something. Long dark hair falls around her bare shoulders, tan skin contrasted by the white shirt she wears—the neckline square across her chest, cinched fabric wrapping around her waist and disappearing into cascading teal skirts. Despite her dress, though, she has a pistol holstered on her hip, as if Shin could get any more curious.
“And who will that be askin’ then?” Shin calls back, not dismounting just yet, just watching. The two of them make steady eye contact—the woman’s form is that of someone looking for a fight, but Shin doesn’t want that. She just wants a bed and maybe some water for her and her horse. Plus, there are a number of things she thinks she might like to do with this woman and fighting is not at the top of that list.
“The deputy of Calico, at your service,” the mysterious woman—the deputy apparently, approaches her horse now. Slowly, the crunch of dirt and gravel beneath her boots the only sound aside from the steady pant of her tired horse. Pepper takes a step back as the woman approaches, taking Shin with her. She’s never taken too kindly to strangers—something the horse and the outlaw have in common. Shin tightens her grip on the reins, the spurs of her boots digging into the horse just enough to keep control. “And you look like trouble.”
“That’s a mighty big judgment to have upon first glance, miss deputy,” Shin does her best to turn on the charm, but she’s never been too good at such a thing. She swindles men easily enough, but women are always harder to convince. After all, a con artist always knows how to spot one of their own. Shin can’t deny she looks like trouble, though—her face is half covered in dirt, only so much of it able to be covered by bandana when she’s riding, there’s a half-healed slice above her eyebrow from a fight in some mining town a couple of days ago, and her nose is crooked like it’s been broken a couple of times (Shin has lost count). Even so, most aren’t usually so bold as to call it out. “I am just here to rest my head and my horse. No trouble at all.”
When Shin senses distaste, that’s when she decides she won’t stay in a town. She’s running from enough, she doesn’t need to try and create more ghosts to follow her west. Granted, she’s gotten in a few good fights since she left Baylan—usually when she milks a glass of bourbon at a saloon and watches a drunkard get too bold with a prostitute or any poor woman that crosses his bath will she down the rest of her glass before smashing it over his head and bringing the barrel of her pistol to his chin. And there was the sheriff’s wife that one time that resulted in Shin being banned from several towns in Arizona. But she tries to stay out of trouble—most of the time. So, she won’t stay in Calico. No matter how much this woman has managed to hook her in the first two minutes of words between them.
“So you tellin’ me you aren’t the outlaw who’s face I’ve seen plastered across every saloon this side of the Mississippi?” the woman rests a hand on her belt, scarily close to her pistol. Shin still doesn’t remove her hands from the reins, but she would shoot faster than this deputy could if it came down to it. She always shoots faster.
Shin leans down, a coy smile on her face as her eyes meet the woman’s. She’s not short by any means, but with Shin’s vantage point on the horse, she hovers just above her face, eyes tracing over her slowly before running back up to meet her eyes. “I never said that. I said all I want is a place to rest my head and my horse and then I will gladly get the hell out of your town.”
“You must think I’m a goddamn idiot if I believe a word of that coming from the likes of you—”
“Sabine!” a voice calls out, grabbing the attention of both the women. Shin turns her head to see another woman coming out of one of the nearby houses—her skin is dark, a long black braid falling down her back. She’s dressed more similarly to Shin, clad in denim with a shirt and vest, a tan cowboy hat blocking her face from the rising sun. On her vest is a shiny silver badge—the Sheriff’s crest. A female deputy was a surprise enough, but a female sheriff is even more interesting. “Why’re you out here bothering newcomers at the asscrack of dawn?”
The woman— Sabine, Shin now knows, huffs and goes over to the bulletin board right outside on the wall of the saloon, ripping one of the papers off and handing it over to the sheriff. The officer peers down at it curiously, reading the words off out loud, “Hm. Wanted for assault, assault with a deadly weapon, adultery, robbery—well, Miss Hati, you certainly have been busy.”
“We need to arrest her—”
The sheriff cuts her off with a slight grin, eyeing Shin up and down with a curious gaze before crumpling up the wanted poster in her hands. “Why don’t you take a mornin’ off and rest your head at our inn?”
“Ahsoka, you cannot be serious,” Sabine argues, eyes darting anxiously in Shin’s direction. “She’s trouble, just look at her.”
Shin finally dismounts her horse, patting Pepper on the head as she stalks over to where the two women stand. She gets closer to Sabine than she probably needs to, close enough to see the beads of sweat on her forehead and the flecks of gold in her wide, dark eyes. Yeah, if Shin is going to find trouble in Calico, she has a feeling it’s standing right here in front of her. She can hear the way Sabine’s breath hitches at her closeness and Shin finds pleasure in knowing she’s shaken up by something so simple.
“You heard the woman, Sabine,” Shin teases, voice careful and low, a steady drawl just to watch the way Sabine shifts at the sound. “I really ought to get some rest. Care to point me in the direction of the inn?”
The sheriff—Ahsoka, Sabine had called her, points at a larger building down the road. “Right down there, tell Hera I sent you, she’ll comp your first night, no worries. Apologies for my deputy here, she gets antsy with your type.”
Shin just places her hand atop her hat and tilts it down with her head, bidding the sheriff goodbye as she retreats back into her house, leaving just Shin and Sabine out on the dirt road at dawn. The second her superior is gone, Sabine takes a step forward, a finger jabbed at Shin’s chest. “Don’t get too comfortable, I know all about you Shin Hati. You’re infamous out west and I take it no town will host the likes of you, not if they’re smart.”
“And yet,” Shin steps back, jutting out her chin as her hands rest at her belt, “it seems Calico has welcomed me with open arms. You should listen to your boss, Sabine. I have been busy and I’d make quick work of a place like this if I really wanted to, you keep that in mind before you go reaching for your gun. Now, you have a good day, ma’am.”
Sabine doesn’t say anything further as she straightens up and steps back, brushing dust off her skirts less so to stay clean and more because she clearly doesn’t know what to do with her hands. The threat is empty, but Sabine doesn’t need to know that. Shin has run into many women like her in the west—restless, searching for something more, for a purpose. Sabine reeks of that sort of displeasure, anxious for something to change, to have something to do.
Shin lingers there, a space too heavy between them as her eyes trace down Sabine’s form. Her skin is tanned, both from the sun and from natural complexion, freckles scatter across her bare shoulders, too many to count. The sun rises over the dust, casting an early golden hue over both of them. Behind her, Pepper whinnies, anxious to get some rest. She’s overworked her, Shin knows that much, but she couldn’t risk being followed. She’s tried her best to keep her trail scattered and erratic, impossible to properly trace. And Pepper has borne the most of that exhaustion.
“Won’t be a good day with you in my town,” Sabine seethes, finding her words with her arms crossed against her chest with a sort of righteousness Shin has seen in the eyes of many. She is no stranger to people wanting her gone. Sabine tilts her head and spits into the dirt beside Shin’s feet before turning to walk down the road.
Shin just stands there for a moment, hands still on her belt and a curious grin on her face as her gaze follows the woman. As if she can feel her eyes on her, Sabine turns around, basking in the morning sun as dust swirls around her skirts with the steady wind of the west. Shin just gives her a crooked grin, tilting her hat and turning towards the inn without a second glance. She can feel the eyes on her, though—lingering.
Shin just chuckles to herself as she heads for the inn. Sleeping at the desk is a woman who looks to be in her late-thirties, dark hair in close cut cropped to ears. A white shirt buttoned to her neck is tucked into brown pants and cowboy boots, minus the spurs. This town sure is chock-full of strange women, Shin is beginning to realize.
The woman—Shin can only assume this is the Hera the sheriff spoke of—is leaning on her palm, mouth open in her sleep. Shin reaches forward cautiously and rings the metal bell on the counter. She startles awake, eyes wide as she sputters, seeing another person standing in front of her.
“Shit, sorry ‘bout that,” the woman says with a startled laugh, “My boy kept me up all night, you know how kids are.”
Shin just pulls her hat off her head and holds it against her chest for a moment before dropping it to her side. “I do not, but I am sure I could picture it just fine. You must be Hera? The sheriff—ah, Ahsoka was it? She sent me over here for a night or two.”
Hera nods, yawning with a hand haphazardly over her mouth before turning and pulling a key down from the wall behind her, handing it off to Shin without a second thought. “Up the stairs and down the hall, darling. Say, you look awfully familiar, have we met before?”
She chuckles lowly, shaking her head and holding out her hand. “No, but I’m sure you’ve heard of me. Shin Hati. Pleasure to make your acquaintance.”
The name rings a bell, Shin can see it in her eyes. Even so, Hera takes her hand and shakes it firmly. Her eyes narrow as she looks at Shin. “We don’t need anymore trouble in Calico, Miss Hati. I’m sure Ahsoka made that clear.”
Shin nods her head, curt and kind. “Absolutely crystal. Thank you for the accommodations, as well. Is there a place I could keep my dear horse? She’s pretty worn.”
Hera is watching her curiously, unsure what to make of Shin’s politeness. Back when her mother was alive (decades ago now), she always taught Shin to keep her manners in check until someone proved unworthy of them. The people of this poor town have done nothing to earn her disrespect—Sabine aside. But Sabine is a bit more fun for Shin, less of an offensive and more of a game to be played.
“There’s a stable out back, should be a free stall for her to rest,” Hera tells her finally, pointing around the back of the building. “You enjoy your stay.”
Shin just places her hat back on her head as she prepares to step back outside to get Pepper settled. She nods once more in Hera’s direction, thinking of the woman that had looked at her in the dust. “Oh, I am sure I will.”