Irene sat on her favorite couch and fanned her face with a white portable fan. She stared at the beautiful crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling. Her thoughts drifted as her soul drifted from her body; thoughts about life... love... whatever life was full of.
"Ms. Irene?" Sophie caught her attention, and she was back in her silly body.
"Huh?" Irene said.
"Your tea," Sophie handed her her cup of tea.
"Oh thanks," Irene faintly smiled. Sophie sat on the couch opposite of her and drank her tea.
"What are you going to do after this? You know, after the mission is completed?" Sophie asked.
Irene wasn't sure. She had planned her missions or plans many times, but after there were no plans, what was she to do?
"I don't know. Maybe sell the house, and take all you guys to England with me," she looked at Sophie, "I don't know."
"Well, what if you could stay here?"
"I don't know what I would do," Irene complained.
"Maybe... you could become a good person? I don't know, maybe help with crime in stopping it. You have all the techniques on how to stop people."
Irene sat there for a moment and thought, "Not a bad idea," she grinned.
Sophie grinned back.
"Oh, Ms. Dawes, where's your hat?" Sophie asked.
Irene touched the top of her head, it wasn't there, "Aw damn, I must've left it somewhere in town!" she groaned.
"Don't worry," Sophie tossed her her hat, "I was in town when that whole crime went down, and when you went to jump on the guy, your hat fell off."
"Wow, ain't you the best?" Irene smiled.
"I know," she smiled back and curtsied.
"I wonder how that girl is," Irene actually had no idea what happened to her. She knew the Marshall was there because she happened to run into him.
"Oh, I overheard she was fine."
"Oh, that's good," she had a smile of accomplishment. Her job was to keep people safe, even though it was ironic, but yet it was. It was to keep them away from dangers that were presented in the Wild West.
She hoped that she would keep her job for a long time.
"There you go," Dylan smiled as he wrapped a bandage around the girl's leg.
"Thank you handsome," she winked. He laughed.
"Are you... are you Indian, by any chance?" he asked, hoping not to offend her.
"I am half actually. Half um, white, and Indian. My name is BlueBird," she stuck her hand out.
"Marshall Dylan Jones," he shook her hand.
"You're really cute," she smiled. Her red hair shined from the luminescent lantern.
He chuckled, "Thanks, but I think you're a little young."
"I'm only eighteen!" she smirked.
"Still, I'm kind of looking for someone around my age," he winked and got up.
Carter and a couple of other men who volunteered with crime were standing there.
"She's ok," Dylan said.
"So she's not....?" Carter asked.
"She's okay, that's all that matters," he looked at BlueBird, "and she has a smile on her face as well."
"She's lucky you were there, or that guy would've done his business and left. Good thing we got him though, how'd you get him?" A man with a huge moustache asked.
"I didn't catch him," the Marshall shrugged.
"What?" Carter asked.
"I only went for the girl, someone else got him," he looked at BlueBird.
"Well, then who did?" Another man asked.
"It was Ms. Dawes!" BlueBird sat there smiling.
"Really? I did seem to run into her today as I went to search for her," Dylan scratched his small facial hairs.
"Why would Ms. Dawes, an outlaw and criminal save some child from... yeah?"
"Because she's a hero," BlueBird said. The men stared at her like she was a dark skinned, crazy Indian.
"A hero that steals thousands of dollars and kills multiple people, okay," they all laughed, except Dylan.
"Why do you not laugh Marshall?" BlueBird asked.
"Because I don't find it funny, I find it rather interesting," he said still scratching his face.
"Hopefully, you'll get to meet her like I did," she smiled and walked outside, and headed wherever she was going.
"Maybe," Dylan said to himself.
Irene was back at the bar the next day, in the same spot, doing the same 'ol thing all over again. Sippin' the water, just relaxing. She was about to close her eyes, when she saw a familiar redhead girl.
The girl from yesterday.
"Can I get a shot?" She asked the bartender.
"Sure, of what?"
"Water please," she smiled. Irene rose a brow in curiousity. The girl grabbed her water and sat next to Irene.
"Well, long time no see, I had hoped you were doing okay," Irene grinned.
"Huh, you'd think men would be more gentlemen," she scoffed.
"I know how you feel," Irene laughed.
"I'm sure you do," the girl raised her glass to her, "I raise a toast to you."
"I feel proud," Irene secretly rolled her eyes, but smiled still.
"I owe you," she said.
"No you don't."
"You saved my life, I owe you big time."
"No, people don't owe me anything," Irene sipped her water.
"This whole town owes you something!"
Finally, Irene thought, someone who might get what I'm going for.
"Alright, I'll think about it. You're Indian, what tribe?"
"The Tomoha," she said.
"Ah, the one that was moved out from Maroni's men, I see where we get our same emotions and thoughts."
"Bluebird," she stuck her hand out again. Irene grabbed it and sniffed it.
"You smell like strong perfume... something I had smelled before, did you shake the Marshall's hand?"
"I did in fact," she smiled, "why?"
"Just curious. I think I should set up a visit with him," Irene smiled.
"To kill him?"
"Oh no," Irene's face looked horrified, "He's hardly not in my way yet, but if he does get in my way... I might have to."
"Please don't. He's quite a handsome man, and very respectable for you. He wants to meet you too," she smiled.
"Alright, here's the deal. You go tell him to meet me in the alley where you were tonight at eight. Go do that now, and I'll find something you could do at my place," Irene smiled.
BlueBird grinned, and jumped right out of her seat.
Who knows about this Marshall, if he was handsome enough, she could use him as an advantage.