Somewhere in the Kansas Territory

Blood is spilled. The year is 1856, you find yourself in a field. A field where violence once was not too long ago. Blood is covering the field. Wildflowers are now red, so is the long grass. An American flag is planted in the centre. It is covered partially in blood. Utterly disgusted by the sight, your eyes gaze to the mountains far away, as an attempt to distract yourself. Then, a gunshot is heard.

Standing in the distance, there is a man. A loud scream could be heard, then another gunshot, then silence. A duel took place, and it ended as swiftly as it started.

What do you do?

Cat had been traveling for some time now, and had paused to rest. It was only by an odd providence that she paused her small carriage by the side of this particular field. The schooner was a small affair, just enough to house some of her wares and the bags she tended to carry with her. As she took off her wide-brim hat and wiped her brow, her freckled face turned to take a look at the field. It was then that she noticed the red stains that were soaking into the dirt. Her eyes widened, and she leaped off the wagon seat and moved into the field itself.

"Tarnations...?" she muttered. Her green eyes scanned the area, looking to see if there was anyone else. It was then that she heard the shot, and jumped. Her hand went to her thigh, where she felt, underneath her skirt, underskirt, and numerous other undergarments, the small pepperbox pistol that she kept hidden. Alright, so she wasn't completely defenseless.

She made a small run deeper into the field, towards the sound of the gunshot and the scream. She tried to keep her eyes out for whatever it might be, aware that it might be something she didn't need to get involved in. A mixture of curiosity about this strange new territory - mixed with a sense that she might have to get involved if need be - caused her to continue onward.

Standing there, was William Davie, which is a face that could barely be recognized only by the wanted posters across Florida. He was not well known in this territory, nor Northern States, but among the south, he was a outlaw, a bandit, a ruthless killer. He barely heard the running steps approaching him, his eyes darted into that direction. He spun his revolver before holstering it. He sighed, recognizing the traits of the figure running to him, being able to identify her red hair, her dress, and other characteristics.

"Hey!" He yelled in a raspy voice. His tone ringing out with aggressiveness, almost ordering her to stop running. He sighed once more, glancing down at the deputy below his feet, staring deeply into the gone eyes of the corpse. He knelt down, before using his fingers to close his dead eyes. He stood up, gazing back at the running figure, before spitting on the ground. "God damn it." He said, partially annoyed, mainly due to the fact that he has to explain his whole life's story to the lady, potentially. Or maybe he could make up a story. But he wasn't one to do that, was he?

As Cat drew closer, she began to slowly make out figures. There was a man looking down somewhere else. In her mind, Cat figured perhaps something had happened - a squabble, a fight, something perhaps innocent in nature. Or perhaps only as "innocent" as these things could get. Surely it was nothing to be afraid of. That changed as she drew closer and the man turned to see her. Her eyes widened a bit, and her run slowed. With his shout of "Hey!", she at last came to a full stop, about twenty feet away.

At his feet was a dead man. The sunlight above glistened against the deputy badge. The heart within her cage began to flutter faster as Cat felt survival instincts kicking in. This was because she recognized the face of the man standing there: William Davie, or The Traveler as some knew him. Having come through Kentucky and Missouri, she had seen a few wanted posters with his face on it. She had always wondered just how accurate those things were, and now, gazing at the face before her, they seemed to be far, far too accurate.

Still, she had learned a few skills, and that was how to get out of a prickly situation - whether it was an angry customer or a known criminal. She smiled wide, and tried to show a charming gleam in her eye. "Oh, I beg your pardon, good sir," she said, her voice having a twang to it. Her accent was a weird mixture of southern lilt and northern sophistication, owing to a mother from Georgia and a father from New York. "I seem to have interrupted your uh..." Her eyes glanced down to the body. "Discussion. I see things went your way." She held up her hands, showing slender fingers that did not carry a gun. However, she was still aware of the pepperbox under her skirt.

"If I'm intrudin', I again beg your pardon. A lady should know her manners! Might I interest you in a ride somewhere? You look like you may need to be uh... making distance from others who would be most disagreeable to you." She didn't entirely want the man to be riding with her, but she also tried to put on an air of friendliness, hoping that the man would understand she was not a threat to him.

He would rub the ridge of his nose, releasing a low grunt of frustration, clearly not enjoying her friendly demeanor. Her attempt to be friendly, he saw right through it. "Give me one good reason why even you, would want me, to ride with you." His hands clasped against his belt buckle. His eyes squinted at the woman, suspicion brewing intensely. He would glance down at the body, giving it a light tap with his boot, before looking back up at her. He would pull something out of his satchel. It turned out to be a cigarette case. He would pull two out, lighting one and holding it to his mouth, inhaling the smoke. "Want a cigarette?" *He said as he offered her the second cigarette in his other hand. Sticking out his hand that held the cigarette for her to grab in. He exhaled the rest of the smoke.

Cat began to think, He's not buying the sale. Her father had taught her that if someone wasn't buying a sale, try to reflect them. Be a walking mirror was his favorite phrase. She hid her realization of this, which made her heart rate elevate and her neck feel a chill. Her response was hesitant, until he offered her the cigarette, then her soft lips curled into a grin.

"Tell me, good sir," she began, "give me one good reason why you would want me to have one of your cigarettes?" She motioned down to the body with one hand, but kept them visible for him to see, as if trying to ensure trust. "After all, t'wasn't me that managed to take down a foe in one shot. But a lady knows not to take a gentleman's offer..." With that, she stepped in slow, methodical steps, towards him. Her hand stretched out, and a slender finger and thumb took the cigarette from him. It was like one giant test of trust, trying to show him that she really had no negative influences.

She took the cigarette and slipped it behind her ear. Her smile still kept on her lips. "The reason I'd offer you a ride is for the same reason you'd offer me a cigarette. We're just two poor souls lost in this here place that they call Kansas Territory. From what I hear, it's going through some growing pains, and that's all the more reason why we should be lookin' out for each other." She motioned to the dead body his boot had tapped not too long ago. "Besides, as I said not but a minute ago, you look like you may be needin' a ride, and that right soon. I reckon the friends of the loser of your quarrel will be wantin' to have some words with the one who did this, and they'll be less suspicious of someone ridin' with a young lady."

She shrugged then. "But, if you're a reckonin' you need no ride, I won't force you. Good day, sir." With that, she turned and walked away. As she did, her hips swayed a bit, causing her skirt to sashay this way and that, as if she were almost emphasizing the point.

"Alright, I'll take the god damn ride!" He spouted out, frustrated, partially immediately regretting his decision. He would up the ante in his step in order to catch up to her graceful stride. The way he walked wasn't as precise as Catherine's, let alone as feline. He walked like a wolf on its last breath, like a drunk man stumbling through town. Though, he wasn't drunk at all. He never was a drinker. It wasn't precisely like a drunk man's stumble (but you get the idea). He sighed, glancing at the woman with suspicious eyes, not quite being able to process her intentions. "Ya'know, it ain' common that a high and civilized person like yourself, would be riding with a person like me. It'll be quite-uh... suspicious. Let alone a little bit." *He gave her one last glance, before staring down the distance sunset.

She turned her head in time to catch him walking after her. Oh, he really is taking the offer up for the ride, came a stray thought. The goal had been to show him kindness and reveal she wasn't a threat - better a few insults to the back than a bullet to the brain. At the very least, she didn't want to end up like that deputy. At his final relenting, she just tsk'd at him. "Using the Lord's name in such a low way like that? And around a lady? Well I suppose I can't complain too much. Must be how they do it where you come from."

As they caught up and continued the conversation, she just giggled at his comment. "High and civilized? Me? Oh, you do a lady a kindness!" She giggled as she continued her way towards a wagon. "Though there are some folks out east who would have a mighty big disagreement with that. Well, if you feel ever so frightened about what someone might think of us together, how about you let me do all the talkin'? I mean, since you find my way of speakin' all mannered, and all." She made her way from the field towards her wagon, which the man would find to be a rather plain one. It looked like so many that had already gone out to Oregon or California, or now, as it was, to Kansas. She crawled up onto the driver's side and readied her reins. "Careful now, my team spooks easy."

If he were to get up and look inside the covered area, he would find some simple crates inside. The tops were loose and could be easily moved out of the way to look inside. There was a small carrying case, no doubt with her clothes and the like. Otherwise, it was nothing terribly exciting - at first glance.

Her hazel, almost green eyes looked out to the sunset he had glanced to not a moment before. "Besides, it's gettin' to be dark. You don't want to be out and about in the dark, do you?" She slapped the reins, and her team started up. "All sorts of things come out at night - and I don't just mean the animals! I was heading to town anyway. Might do you some good to find a place to rest." Her eyes shifted over to him. Truth be told, she was also unsure what to make of him. He had just murdered a man, and she recognized him as William Davie, she was uncertain if he was all that dangerous that some made him out to be. He seemed almost... quite agreeable.

"So... is it okay if a curious lady asks exactly what sort of argument led to... how I found ya?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" He said to her comment, mostly the where he came from part. He spoke as he walked beside her. "You can do all the talking then, since you wanna." He climbs into the wagon with a grunt as he sat down. "Alright, I suppose."

He gazed sharply at her, before speaking. "Now that, is a long, long story, friend." He looked down at his feet, letting out a deep sigh, coming to the realisation that she'll want to hear it anyway, despite his reluctancy. "Well, I know a guy... who knows a guy... who knows some rich folk. A bit, too rich, if you catch my drift." He would rest his elbows against the back of the seat. "So, timed it perfect. Rode into their estate. I tried to be quiet, I really did!" He would chuckle a bit. "Then enough of the ruckus I made, ended up shooting some of their hired folk, then some lawmen, then I rode off. Had some chasing after me, see. Then I shot them. The leading deputy caught up. He was the last one." He muttered, before going silent. "Not to long ago there was a, thing, goin' on in that field. A bloody battle, between the same damn nation. It was terrible. I watched from the distance. I knew I couldn't get involved." He remained silent for a moment. "Bleeding Kansas... That's what they call it."

She snickered at his jumpy attitude, though she said nothing else, and permitted him to take over the conversation. She wasn't quite sure where this was going to lead them, though she imagined, even before he began talking, that this place known as "Bleeding Kansas" gave everyone an opportunity to start over... even gunmen like him.

As he told his story, she just sat there and listened. Her eyes remained focused on her team and what lay ahead of them, though her ears were completely attentive. At the first half of his story, she smirked at him as she looked at him sideways with her hazel-green eyes. "Well, aren't you just the modern Robin Hood, complete with a Sheriff of Nottingham goin' up on your tail." She pulled on the reins as her team threatened to wander off the trail. "Yeah, I hear what the call this place. Seems from what I just saw that it's a right good name for itself."

Up ahead, she saw a collection of buildings, and could only guess it was the next town. "You familiar with this place?" she asked him.