"Maria and Rosa, be nice to your brother! And don't forget to stir the stew!" Isadora called out over her shoulder to her siblings. "Ma, I'm headin' out now," she said, giving her mother a quick kiss on the cheek before she walking out of her cramped but cozy home and into the blinding sun.

The sky was a merciless blue, with not a cloud in sight. The sun beat down relentlessly on the parched land and sparse patches of lifeless grass as Isadora Escalante strode down the street and walked into the Burnside saloon through the back door. She slipped past the kitchen and emerged into the dining area, where Joshua Darwall, the owner of the saloon, was hosting his usual story contest. Isadora glanced at the windows, making note if the various forms of transportation that had been left outside in the sun. Horses and wagons seemed to be the preferred mode of transportation, which was nothing out of the ordinary.

Isadora caught Joshua's eye and flashed him a bright smile in greeting before she began to wait tables. Most of the patrons' attention was fixated on the small stage that Joshua was standing on, introducing his story telling contest. Billy was playing the piano, and nothing seemed horribly out of the ordinary. Of course, there [i]was[/i] the matter of three mean-looking men who had just walked in a few seconds ago, guns holstered at their hips, but so long as they didn't actually do anything, Isadora didn't count that as unusual. Strangers and travelers were always present in the saloon; even ones who were looking for trouble.

Out of the corner of her eye, Isadora glanced at the deputy and the sheriff as the story-telling contest started. If she knew anything about William and Clayton Beck, it was that both of them had zero tolerance for troublemakers. It would be interesting to see how things played out if the men decided to try something.

Isadora wiped down a few tables before stopping to survey the crowd once more. This time, she managed to pick out out two lean, dark-haired men who were sitting in the middle. She recognized them as Amid and Kadir, two horsemen who were damn good at their job if what the people said was true. A tall, dark-skinned man made his way into the saloon, getting a few surprised looks. Isadora watched, nonplussed. She'd seen her fair share of people of different races in her time working at the saloon, and besides, it'd be hypocritical of her to find racial diversity strange, considering that Isadora was half-Mexican herself. Charles O'Malley entered shortly after, clad in a suit. If the rumors were to be believed, he'd been a big-time slave owner before the war. Now, she knew that he loaned out money to people, and that he was notoriously brutal towards people who didn't repay their loans on time. He asked for champagne in a slow Southern drawl, and Isadora almost went over to help him, but Joshua beat her to it. Other people filtered in, some of whom Isadora didn't recall ever seeing before. She put down the rag she had been using to wipe down tables and brought drinks to the patrons, her periwinkle-colored skirts swishing around her ankles as she walked.

One of the other waitresses, Sophie, sidled up to Isadora as she returned to the area behind the bar to get more drinks. "Whatcha' doing, Isa? Any of the people from outta town look 'specially interesting to you?"

Isadora turned to face the blonde waitress, an easy grin on her lips. She was fond of the other girl. The two of them had started working at Burnside at around the same time, and they had quickly formed a bond in those first years when they were stuck doing the dishes together. "There's a mean-looking fella over there, the one with the scar. Whaddya think of him?"

Sophie's gaze flitted over to the man. "Oh, him? Clay just asked 'bout him, actually. Said that him and his friends stink of bad medicine or somethin' like that. I don't know. They haven't done anything to cause trouble, in any case."

"Hmm. Well, Mister Darwall's not gonna throw 'em out for just sitting there lookin' mean, I suppose," Isadora replied, shrugging. She grabbed two mugs and filled them up with beer before walking back out to the main area of the saloon and placing the mugs on a table in front of two patrons. They thanked her absentmindedly, more focused on the storytelling contest than on her or the drinks. Isadora listened in as Sheriff William recounted how he'd encountered a bounty hunter and a deserter right here in Soursprings many, many years ago. The front door opened, and two men walked in-one of them wore a hat, while the other one had long blonde hair tied in a ponytail away from his face. 

[i]Now, they're the ones that look like trouble,[/i] Isadora thought to herself, suddenly keenly aware of the blades hidden under her clothing. [i]I shoulda' worn those sharp hairpins too. Elena says they're real handy if you don't got scissors with you. I don't see how they wouldn't be real handy in stabbin' some fella's eyes out either.[/i] Isadora couldn't say that she'd seen very much trouble in her days-in fact, most of the time it was pretty quiet in the saloon, despite what one might think-but she'd seen enough to recognize the signs of it. She cast a quick glance at the owner of the saloon, who appeared to be completely unworried by the new arrivals. Instead, he was paying rapt attention to Sheriff William's story. Isadora sighed and shook her head slightly, pouring another drink. She smiled politely at the man who'd ordered it and placed it on the table he was sitting behind. 

Since most of the patrons were paying more attention to Sheriff William and his story than to their drinks, Isadora took a small break and set down her tray, leaning back against the counter next to Sophie. She turned to the other girl, eyes sparkling mischievously. "So, didja' hear?" she whispered conspiratorially. "The general store owner's wife, Sue. The one who taught me and Maria and Rosa how to embroider, the one who came over from the East. Y'know what she did?"

Sophie furrowed her brow in confusion. "No, I sure don't. What happened?"

Isadora grinned wickedy. "She found out her husband was cheatin' on her with some other woman for ten years. He cut it off a year ago, but that don't mean Sue wasn't damn furious when she realized."

Sophie's blue eyes widened. "[i]No[/i]. Dear god, Isa, how'd she know?"

"To hear her neighbor Eliza tell it, she'd been goin' through old papers and stumbled upon a coupla' love letters. The latest one was from 1881 or so, and the earliest from just after the war ended." Isadora felt a small surge of delight at Sophie's shocked expression.

"And Sue talked to her husband about it?" Sophie asked.

Isadora nodded. "You betcha'. She stormed right on over to where he was helpin' out some customers and sent all of her anger at him right then and there, in front of everybody in the store." An angry Sue was a sight to behold. Red-haired and feisty, Sue was widely regarded as the true owner of the general store. She made all the important decisions and kept the books, while her husband was in charge of tending to the day-to-day affairs of the store. 

Sophie let out a low whistle. "Good god, poor woman. And for ten years, no less."

"I know, bless her soul. If Elena's husband ever pulls somethin' like that on her I'll personally introduce him to Satan myself," Isadora said matter-of-factly, pushing a strand of her wavy brown hair out of her face. Sophie chuckled slightly at Isadora's comment. She opened her mouth to respond, and all the hell broke loose.

[i]Goddammit, I [/i]knew[i] that fella with the scar was trouble![/i] Isadora thought as he launched himself at another patron. The saloon descended into chaos as the brawl started. Isadora rolled her eyes. "Men," she grumbled under her breath. "They're all the same-too damn prideful for their own good and always too damn drunk to do anythin' but start fights." Isadora was not overly concerned, however. If none of them drew a gun, then things would calm down pretty quickly. She noted that Joshua was calmly watching the fight, even making a few jokes here and there. 

Out of the corner of her eye, Isadora saw the door open for a split second before closing again. Frowning, she almost went to investigate, but one of the dark-haired horsemen she'd noticed earlier-she couldn't recall if it was Amid or Kadir, which was strange, since she'd always had a knack for remembering names-walked up to the counter and asked the barman for another drink. His words were almost indecipherable above the racket caused by the brawl going on behind him. 

Isadora leaned over the counter so she could talk to him without screaming at the top of her lungs. "I can help you out, though I'm not the barman," she offered, flashing him a teasing smile. "What would you like?"