Rush

act iv. { a nice pair of pantaloons }

I pondered that fact while I rolled a cigarette between my fingers. It was almost like those men hadn't seen a pretty thing ever before in their lives, the way they gaped at Mercy. And by the looks of that boomertown, that may have been about right. Idaho Springs was beaten down, lawless, and filthy, surrounded on all sides by mountains that blossomed up to the starry sky. Chalk full of down-on-their-luck men and ladies of the night. It was a dark place where criminals like me didn't have to watch our backs.

But there was one special thing about Idaho Springs. It was a symbol for a chance at a new life. To strike gold. That was every man's dream.

I pressed my cigarette between my lips and took a generous drag, for it had been a while since I'd had the pleasure of a smoke. It smoldered and burned ablaze in the darkness while I watched as a plume of smoke escaped my parted lips. I shifted my weight against the railing outside the town saloon and took in my surroundings with a lazy demeanor. Too many pathetic mining towns had sprung up out west and Idaho Springs was no different than the rest of them.

Makeshift wooden buildings hugged the single, muddy road that made up the entire length of town. Windows were illuminated with the warm glow of candle light and off dotting the dark mountains were dozens of miner's campfires, like tiny stars. Somewhere nearby, a lonely fella played a sad tune on the harmonica. 

Yes, Idaho Springs was gloomy at best. For just as there was always a steady stream of bright-eyed miners coming in, there was always a group of down trodden miners trudging out. The desperate sobs of these men were a testament to the cold, hard truth that life wasn't fair to us all. See, men went crazy looking for gold. And ol' Mr. Dubose was just one example.

The sound of hopeless cries mingled with the melody of the harmonica like a sad ballad to Mr. Dubose's life. 

"My gold? Where's my gold? I can't find..." he cried, his voice trailed off while he stumbled blindly around the darkened drag. I heard shutters open near me and a young man poked his head out.

"Shitfire, Mr. Dubose is out raisin' Cain again. Danny, go get his ass outta the street," he shouted at his comrade before slamming the shutters shut again. My stomach wrenched at the pathetic scene in front of me. Just as I was about to turn a cheek, a bewitching figure stepped into the street from the other side of the road.

I watched as Mercy pressed a small vial into the poor, crying bastard's hand, whispered a short something in his ear, and walked away. The gilded contents of the vial gleamed in the light of the street lamps. My jaw hung open, not only because Mercy had just given Mr. Dubose a small amount of gold, but because of what she was wearing. 

Fitted gray trousers graced her figure, with long black boots on her feet, along with a loose white blouse and a gray corset overtop, with thick black embroidery blossoming up to her breasts. I recomposed myself as she approached, confident as ever, despite her apprehension towards trousers earlier in the day. This woman was full of surprises, that much was for sure.

"Wrangled up some trousers," Mercy quipped, settling herself in front of me. She extended her hand up toward me, plucked the cig from between my lips, and placed it between her own. 

"I thought you were broke," I replied, already missing the sense of calm each drag gave me. I watched Mercy's red lips craddle it while my mind wandered back to the look of her undergarments in the break of dawn that morning.

"They didn't take my mother's silver," Mercy shrugged, letting the smoke waft from her lips to my face. I involuntarily imagined Mercy swiping her mother's lovely silver set for some desperately needed cash.

"What a relief." I flashed a smile and rested my hands on the railing, admiring the sound of the lonely harmonica. Unlike Mercy, I typically didn't have two pennies to rub together at any given time in my life. Hence the stagecoach robberies. "What'd you do to that poor bastard out there?"