Jolene rode her horse, Titania, into a small dusty town. The both of them were tired from their long journey. It had been a week since they had last seen another soul. Now that they were once again among others, the noise was loud on their ears. Wishing simply for a little rest and to get cleaned up, Jolene angled the mare towards the tavern.

She went around back, dismounted, and walked over to the stableman. She arranged with him to feed and water Titania. Otherwise to leave her horse alone. It was more for his protection, as Titania only responded to her. She was a sturdy horse and could kill a man very easily. Titania was extremely loyal to Jolene, and with a whispered command from Jolene she allowed the man close enough to fill her hay trough and water bucket.

With a last word of warning to the stablehand, Jolene headed out and into the tavern. This was the last place she wanted to be. There were men sitting around everywhere. It was late enough into the evening that some of them were less than sober. Jolene's entrance caused the entire room to fall silent, as usual, and didn't pick up again until she started to head to a back table.

Her entry always caused a stir in new places. One, a woman who wasn't a prostitute wasn't generally seen frequenting taverns. Second, she wasn't obviously either a prostitute or a well-bred woman. From her sword at her side to the unique gun strapped to her waist, she wasn't ordinary. Good thing they couldn't see either of the boot knives, thigh knives, throwing knives up her sleeves, smaller throwing throwing knives hidden in her hair, or the deadly bullets that explode on contact in her gun. As good as she was with blades of any type, she needed the exploding bullets to finish the job her slightly bad aim with a gun required.

She slid into a chair with her back to the corner and leaned back. From past experience, she knew those closest to her would become more drunk, forget about her, and start talking. Then she would begin to learn things that should never be uttered.

The bartender walked over and she ordered soup, bread, and cider. The normal fare in this place. When he returned, she also made quiet arrangements for a room at the end of the hall upstairs to stay in later. Now all she could do was sit tight and wait for some fool to say something that would give her ancient vow of vengeance a direction to go.

Sheila’s feet were killing her. Not that it would make her stop walking; she had to get back to her temporary camp. Pulling her hat a little farther down on her head, she breeched the top of the hill and stood there for a moment, looking down into the tiny valley below. It held a shallow but clean pool of water, sparse green grass in what soil could support life, and a pile of half-burned wood standing near a nearly blindingly-white horse she fondly called Token. He was a thin horse, naturally, but sturdy and strong. He was lying under a scraggly tree for what little shade it provided, nibbling the grass nearest him. Sheila grasped the hem of her skirt, which didn’t quite reach her knees, and slid down the rocky side of the hill and into the valley. Token glanced up, letting out a nicker in greeting but staying where he was.

“Token, you lazy thing.” Sheila smiled softly at him, running her hand down his nose for a moment. “You ought to be a big boy.” She patted his neck and stepped away, grabbing up her canteen beside the makeshift seat near the fire, a flat rock covered in a blanket to make it softer, and knelt by the water. She hooked it to Token’s saddle and threw the saddlebags over his back, picking up the belt she had laid by the fire before going off on a walk. They carried two special guns, which contained no ammunition. Instead, they rapidly compressed the debris and air around them and shot the air forward at massive speeds, which reached up to two hundred feet before dissipating and losing lethality. Sheila was confident enough to roam without much in weaponry, but carried her prized guns and several blades on her body, mostly under her external vest.

She coaxed Token out of his resting area, mounting him and taking off. Over the gently-rolling hill across from the one Sheila had crossed before, heading toward the little town she had been moving to the past four days. She wouldn’t be welcomed with open arms. Her short skirts, unladylike personality, and disregard for general law made her a girl to be wary of. Or at least avoid insulting.

Her feet still hurt, but at least she didn’t have to walk anymore. Sheila made a mental note to buy better boots once reaching town, and perhaps get a room at the inn for a day or two. It would be nicer to lie in a bed rather than on the ground for a while. Token would be happy to rest, she felt. And maybe she would be one step closer to finding her parents’ killers.

Jolene had finished her meal and relaxed against the wall. As she knew would happen, people were starting to talk. Since she was in a corner, there were only two tables close enough to her for her to hear clearly what was being said. Sadly, they were men. But she had steeled her soul to endure their rough presence. The table to her right was by a window. The only window in the tavern's main room. The table to her left was between her and the fireplace further on.

She focused on the table to her right. They looked like they were going to leave soon. She picked up bits and pieces about cattle stealing. Enough to give her a little fun in stopping thieves, but unless they were stealing from a ranch that was run by a defenseless widow or something it wasn't her problem.

With her eyes closed in feigned napping, she shifted her attention to the left. The men were talking quieter. They were planning to come back here in the morning for breakfast. That was encouraging for the appetite - not. She mentally sighed and waited. Eventually they would leave or allow it to be known how ruthless they really were. Anyone worth anything had split long ago for bed. One of them mentioned a stage coming through via a new route to the south. She knew the area as she had ridden through it yesterday. There were some good gullies and cliffs in that area that would be perfect for an ambush. Maybe she should head out that way before light and scout a good hiding place to observe from.

As the men left, she slowly got up and headed towards the stairs. The bartender knodded as she passed. She paused and confirmed with him that there was several mercantile stores to shop at in town as well as a weapons store and armory. She needed to resupply tomorrow. Wouldn't do to stay in town more than a few days.

At the door to her room she paused, went in and checked around, set up an explosive trap at the door in case of unwanted visitors, and then did the same at the window. Always be prepared. She then cleaned up and headed to bed.

The sun had started to set as Sheila and Token made it past the defensive, though rickety and old fence around the town. Token had slowed to a walk without Sheila needing to give him the indication, being around more people and large buildings set him to a slow, watchful state of mind and pace. Sheila looked about town, waving her bright, sensitive eyes to the few people still wandering and working before the dark set in completely. Sheila angled Token toward the stables, dismounting and leading Token instead of riding. On her way, she passed a well-dressed older man, whose purse was tied loosely to his belt. With a flick of her hand and slight lean toward him, she looped the string around her finger and lifted it off his belt. There was quite a bit of money inside, some of which she used to pay for Token’s board. She noted not to near Token without her present. Token was a vicious horse when confronted with anyone other than Sheila. With an overnight stock of food and water, and a secluded stable, Sheila left Token in full confidence he would be well, bringing her bags with her.

On her way to the bar and inn she passed on their way in, she got many stares of mixed emotions. Most were slight grins and raised brows from the men, and the rest were scolds and narrowed eyes from the older women. Her look was a very unconventional and uncouth one, short skirt, two vests, boots that reached her knees, and obviously handmade belts, her clothing seemed never to be seen before. When she entered the bar, not many were left. Only a few drunks, no one at the piano in the corner, and the fire was half burned out. The barman greeted her with a lingering of the eyes, a bit of an overly-wide smile. She tipped her hat to him, asking for a loaf of dense bread and a dark ale, which she had noted as being stocked even in the small town that didn’t seem to have a name. Before the barman wandered off to get it, she also requested a room to stay in for a few days, at the most.

With her food came a key to one of the rooms upstairs. “Number six.” The barman noted with a sweet grin and nod. Sheila returned the smile, and breathed out her built-up annoyance when the barman rushed off to tend to a brewing fight between two remaining barflies. She ate silently, finishing the ale first, finding it a rare treat and break from the plain, questionable water she carried with her between stops. Her mind was, as usual, blank. She wanted revenge for the murder of her parents when she was a child, something she didn’t even remember happening for being so young, but having the knowledge that they were taken away from her in cold blood before she ever got to know them burned in the back of her mind. Sheila wouldn’t stop until she found the ones responsible for destroying her tiny family. Finishing her bread, she took her key and bags and went upstairs.

A brass-framed bed, desk, chair, bookshelf, bedside table, and a closet were the only things in the room, other than a stale old rug that hushed her footfalls when she entered. Using the chair, she put it under the doorknob and tested it, making sure no one would enter without alerting her at once. When she went to the window, intent on securing it, she found it barred and nailed shut already. Shrugging, she sat on the bed, making it squeak, taking off her boots and throwing herself back. She wondered, for the longest time, if she would forever just be running in circles…

Jolene rose early. The sky was its darkest color, alerting to those observing enough that dawn was not far off. She packed up her stuff, undid her explosive traps, and slipped out of her room. Quietly she headed down the hall and stairs. She poked her head into the kitchen and asked the burly woman if she could pack bread and an apple. She wouldn't be back until late morning or early afternoon and would miss breakfast as it was.

She hurried outside and around back to the stable. Noting the new horse that was stabled since she arrived last night, she figured it belonged to the strange girl in a short skirt that came in during supper. That girl had guts to wear such an outfit, especially among men. She must not have endured the cruelty men could deal. Either that or she didn't mind. Jolene shook her head and swung the saddle onto Titania's back. After tacking her up, she mounted up and they cantered out of town.

Making her way south, she soon found the barely visible road that the stage coach was planning on taking. Changing routes might have been a way to avoid planned ambushes, but they couldn't have chosen a worse way to come towards town. The area was full of gullies and cliffs. Perfectly ripe for those wanted to cause mischief while not being seen. Well more than thugs could play that game.

Dawn was lightening the eastern sky. She chose a spot overlooking a gully particularly near the road and settled in to wait. Being here first had its advantages. She would be able to see any thugs coming in after breakfast and mug them soundly before the coach arrived. A law abiding way in her opinion to get rich on information and coin. Men deserved no better. At least those men who enjoyed hurting others.

She didn’t sleep well, if at all. It was strange having to go from sleeping on the ground, under the stars and having no walls around her, to being confined and lying on a soft yet lumpy mattress. It was too quiet, save for the thumps and occasional squeaks below and beside her room. When the moon was high in the sky, she gave up trying to sleep and left her old possessions behind.

Though her feet still hurt, Sheila walked away from her room, the building, and went to the stables. Token was restlessly stamping his hoof on the floor, shaking his long mane back and forth as though he sensed something Sheila didn’t. She calmed him with her presence, a moment’s quiet reassurances, and led him into the road. Without his saddle, he seemed to glow in the moonlight. A rare sight to see, a horse of all white. She didn’t need to lead Token with her, he simply followed close behind. They followed the main road out of town, toward the moon that was setting slowly in front of them.

Not far out of town, they found an old, dead tree. Its trunk was thick, the branches low and fanned in an umbrella form, just at the top of a low hill. With her mind elsewhere, she led Token toward it.

Under the branches, she looked around the barren landscape. For a while she could see nothing but dark, the ancient land, a massive hill far away. And something dark smudging the ground at its base. It looked like a house, something she never would have noticed without the help of the moon. A nagging familiar feeling picked at the back of her mind, as though something was there she left behind a long time ago, something she didn’t even remember. Without thinking, she swung herself up onto Token, galloping as fast as they could toward what could have been nothing but a mirage. For a swift moment, Sheila was certain she was on the way to a path, something that could lead her toward a potential culprit, the people who killed her parents long ago.

Jolene smiled at the gagged men. Her assumptions were correct. Two of them were from the tavern last night. From the looks of things, they didn't recognize her. Right before they had shown up, she had seen them coming and switched from her dusty brown clothes to black slacks, shirt, and head covering. She kept these for rare occasions. These men were known in town and would identify her over the next day or so if she didn't find a way to avoid that. Since she kept her chest bound, it was easy to change quickly and have the appearance of a man.

She dragged them in their dazed state to the road and left a note with their intentions above their heads. She included personal details she had gleaned from them in her "interrogation" and included them in the note to confirm the truth of the note. Now she needed to get back to town and resupply. She wasn't planning to stay long.

Maybe do some criminal research in the library's archives. This small town had a library... and with archives. She was excited about that. An accidental discovery when one of the men sassed back at her. She needed some information though. More than the tidbits these men gave her, though their coin was nice compensation. There was a nearby homestead run by a teenage girl. She and her brother had about 45 head of cattle. It seems these men were to join some friends tonight in relieving the girl of her burden. Jolene gave the men one last kick for good measure and climbed up the side of the cliff. Out of sight of the men, her horse Titania came quickly to her side. She had plenty of time before lunch. She mounted and loped down a ways to where she could easily get on the road and head towards town.

For the longest time her family had been so near her and her makeshift family. Yet Sheila had never thought to go the way she did. Now, sitting among dusty books, trying to find a record of killers got away or deaths nearby, she kicked herself for being so blind, so quick to conclude nothing of interest was ever in that direction. The images were burned in her mind’s eye.

No one had, apparently, gone to the house since their deaths. Being folk of little worth, who wouldn’t be missed when they were gone, they were either left there by those who found them or never found at all. When she went inside that old, tomb-like house, she could easily see that which she was taken away from, which was taken away from her. A couch, eaten away by breeze, moths, and chattery little desert creatures. A chair of the same condition. The old wooden floor creaked, and was clouded with dust. The fireplace had long ago burned out the wood inside, leaving scattered ash. A covered cradle sat beside the chair. But what struck her the hardest was what had lain upon the floor.

Two bodies, very thin, the skin stretched taut over the bones, as though they had become mummies in the dry day of the desert, preserved, in a way. Their clothes were mostly there, covered in dust and loose dirt, some ash. Her mother’s hair was white, bleached the color of bone. Her father had none at all.

She couldn’t get that image out of her head, though she tried. Her parents, killed at their most defenseless, Sheila herself kidnapped. Kidnapped. She was helpless to defend herself, or her parents. But not anymore. She would avenge their wrongful deaths and her loss, if it took her entire life. Gritting her teeth at that silent reassurance, she flipped the page of her book and glared at the words as though they knew something she didn’t.

Jolene was worn out. Her ride back to town was uneventful. She had stabled her horse Titania and had gone to the general store for supplies. She had lingered there longer than necessary until the stage coach came in. On top were the would-be bandits. They were no longer gagged, but still tied. She had enjoyed the rumors that began to spread rapidly throughout town on their arrival. Legally, nothing could be done to them as they had not had the chance to break the law. However, their characters were all the more known now. The people in this small town would be less likely to trust them or be willing to be seen with them. Something she loved about good 'ole western justice in these backwater places was the concept of vigilante work. If enough people suspected these men of a horrible enough crime, they would be lynched without trial. She gathered her purchases and stored them in her room back at the tavern.

On her way to the library, she noted the armory as she walked by. Weapons she had. However checking into different ammo besides the exploding bullets she had might come in handy. These isolated towns wouldn't have much, but each place was different with their own specialty bullet for the rare traveler who owned the type of gun she had. She walked up to the boardwalk where the library was. It was actually above the police headquarters and jail. Due to a lot of the material being current and local events, marshals' reports, police memos, and the like in addition to the novels and maps normally in a library, most visitors were researchers or historians. She quickly stepped into the lobby of the police station, knodded to the young woman at the reception desk, and headed up the stairs.

Jolene stood at the top of the stairs and surveyed the room. There were shelves of books, with each shelf and book painstakingly labeled. The Corner of Archives with all the local history had the same strange young lady from last night sitting at a table. She raised an eyebrow at this stranger's choice of wardrobe. Not an ordinary person, that was for sure. Not wanting to intrude on her, for the moment at least, Jolene turned toward the section where the maps were kept. If she could get a few maps of the local area and spread them on a table, she might get an idea of where the ranch was that was going to be robbed tonight. More gold, and maybe more information on other less-than-respectful men who harmed the innocent, would be worth it. After that, she should split town. Maybe even pretend to have already left town before dark, then double back? That way no reports connecting her easily with these "rescues" would be recorded. However, it would be suspicious to ride out right before dark. She didn't have the luxury. She would need to stay another night and be at breakfast come morning. She sighed and headed over to the stacks of organized maps.