Outlaws in Time - Billy the Kid x !Reader

Chapter 1. Crash in Time

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Voices. Horses? You opened your eyes, finding yourself on the desert ground, facing a wild-west-like town. A large sign adorned the arch-like entrance, proclaiming 'Silver City.' That was where you both were headed. You had made it to the festival, but what happened? Where's Jackie? You scanned the surroundings beyond the town, only to be met with sand and dirt. No Jackie or her car is to be found. Was that car crash a dream? You winced as a stinging sensation that came from your cheek, instinctively prompting you to touch it with your fingers. Blood. Maybe it wasn't a dream, but what exactly happened?

You pulled out your phone, no service, great. You stood up and swept the sand off your skirt, perhaps Jackie went inside the festival without you, unlike her but you were not sure where else to start besides entering the festival.

As you entered the town, the collective gaze of the locals bore into you, their enthusiasm for the Wild West Festival respectable. Every person you passed was meticulously dressed in attire reminiscent of a bygone era, wide-brimmed hats, fringed jackets, and worn leather boots that you would see in a high-school history book. As you walked through the dusty streets, people halted their activities, casting curious glances in your direction. Insecurity swept over you, prompting a self-conscious hug of your arm. Was your outfit out of place? Once you find Jackie, you're going to beat the crap out of her.

The structures that lined the dusty streets of Silver City bore an unmistakable resemblance to the Wild West era. The saloon, with its weathered wooden façade, proudly displayed swinging double doors that creaked on rusty hinges as patrons entered and exited. Next door stood the general store, its weather-beaten wooden planks hinting at years of sun and wind exposure. A wooden sidewalk led to the entrance, where a scattering of barrels showcased goods ranging from sacks of flour to spools of thread. Impressive budget for a small festival.

You stumbled upon a wooden structure, more like an open wooden frame than a traditional building. A weathered sign hung above the entrance, proclaiming it as the "Kathleen Eating House." Figuring it was a good spot to grab a drink and wait for Jackie, perhaps even find some Wi-Fi, you decided to venture inside.

Upon entering, immediate regret washed over you. The place was relatively small, with six other patrons scattered about, and the only presence resembling staff was a single waitress who appeared to be running the entire establishment. The woman, with brown hair, was frantically juggling orders, shuttling food to tables, and seemingly managing everything from cooking to dishwashing, she looked young, yet also old, as her eye circles drooped.

It was evident she was operating at maximum physical capacity. As you turned to exit, contemplating finding a less chaotic place, her voice reached out to you. "Good afternoon! Please sit anywhere, I'll be with you in a moment." She offered a weary smile before immersing herself back into the whirlwind of tasks. You reciprocated with an awkward smile and opted for a seat in the far corner, casting occasional glances at the bustling street outside. Hoping to spot Jackie and seize an excuse to leave.

As you continue to watch the crowd pass by you notice a tall man briskly approaching the establishment, clad in a blue collared shirt and brown suspenders, hat atop his head, and a revolver at his waist. Squinting for a better view, he seems familiar.

As he walked in, the waitress stopped with her busy tasks, "Hello love, how was your day?" She kissed him on the cheek, and as quick as the kiss was, she got back to her work much quicker.

"Been okay, Ma." He smiled. "How can I help you?"

"Ah, can you take that girl's order for me?" the woman gestured in your direction. The man, presumably her son, turned to you, making eye contact. In an attempt not to seem like an eavesdropper, your eyes quickly averted, feeling the sting of hot embarrassment in your ears.