[h1][color=9e0b0f]Victoria Chatham[/color][/h1]

Victoria wondered what she had gotten herself into as bullets snapped through the air above her head. She saw the coyote give her a grin and pull a fancy maneuver with his horse. All she could think was that she should really teach Maria that trick. As Leo moved further away and put fire downrange Victoria noticed nobody was firing in her direction anymore. She quickly pulled one of her pistols and peeked over her cover. She saw a man moving up the far side of the street at an angle Leo couldn’t seem to see. Victoria pulled back on the hammer of her pistol with her thumb and took a deep breath. 

Leaning out the side of her cover victoria closed an eye and peered down the colt’s sight putting the front blade directly over the man’s face. With a tug of the trigger and a puff of white smoke a round sprang from the barrel and flew harmlessly over his head. The recoil was a lot more than victoria had expected swinging the front of the pistol so high it almost flew out of her hands and hit her in the face. Re-cocking her pistol and readjusting her grip she took aim at the man, now crouched and running faster, and let loose another round. This one pelted the ground at his feet making a small explosion of sand and dirt. The third round clipped his leg and he stumbled but continued to hobble toward Leo.  Victoria could hear the coyote trading quips with Dawson’s men but tried her best to ignore it and concentrate on her target. He was moving a lot slower now so the fourth round ripped through his shirt. Number five flew wild behind him. She pulled the hammer on her pistol and rotated the last round behind the barrel, one last chance to drop this man and save her new found ally.  She slowly pulled the trigger while breathing out, keeping both eyes on her target. She felt the hammer drop. Her pistol kicked back in her hands. She saw red explode from the man’s chest and watched him fall to the ground. Still. Silent. Dead. 

But she didn’t have time to reflect on the fact she had just taken a man’s life. Suddenly a flash of red and sparks fell into her vision. With a high pitched yelp she realized it was a stick of dynamite. She didn’t know much about explosives just that she didn’t want to be anywhere near them. She took off running in the opposite direction, sprinting back toward the front of the saloon but she certainly wasn’t dressed for running. The heels of her shoes sunk into the ground slowing her down, the corseted top of her dress limited her ability to breath. She tripped on the hem of her dress and fell forward into the dirt. She pulled herself up to her hands and knees and desperately scrambled to a nearby barrel, feeling rounds landing around her. As she rolled behind the barrel, clutching her empty pistol to her chest, she made eye contact with a young brunette girl and a native man. Her chest heaved as she gasped out “[color=9e0b0f]oh. Uh. Hey there[/color].”