The stranger stepped into the saloon, looked at the first few plates of food being served, and she gave a laugh. “Well I sure timed this well. What’s on the menu? I’m famished.”

Perhaps everyone was too shocked or just too hungry to really question it. Whatever the reason, no one spoke up or asked who this woman was. They just all looked at her curiously in silence, suspiciously even. Then Faith nodded and gestured to a nearby table. “The men eat first. Then we’ll bring you some food, assuming you can pay?”

The stranger nodded and took a seat.

From behind the bar, where she’d been pouring drinks, Casey watched. The woman sat straight with good posture, unlike the men, most of whom slouched or hunched. Casey noticed it, for it was something her own mother was always reminding her of. ‘Sit up straight Casey, you look like a hunchback.’ Now, watching, Casey could see that this posture made the stranger look, not just beautiful like her mother was always saying, but also powerful. The woman surveyed her surroundings. Her gaze did not shy from anyone.

Casey wanted to ask her where she was from, but no one else spoke and Casey was scared to disturb the silence.

When the stranger’s gaze finally found Casey and fixed on her, studied her, perhaps even for longer than she had the others, Casey shyly dropped her own gaze down and focused intently on wiping up a spill on the counter. When she looked back up she found the woman was still looking at her. She paused, unsure what to do. She was saved only by her mother asking her to come and carry the rest of the food out.

It wasn’t until James The Bear asked for a third helping of eggs and was denied them by Faith on grounds of supply rationing, that conversation really got going.

The Bear was trying to explain how he always ate nine eggs for breakfast and Faith couldn’t just turn down a paying customer like that, when the stranger interrupted in a casual tone.

“Oh, I wouldn’t worry too much about rations. There’s a caravan coming through with food supplies this afternoon. A religious group from the city. They should be open to favourable trade. I expect you’ll be able to stock up from them on whatever supplies you’re short.”

“And how exactly do you know this?” questioned James The Bear.

“I’ve been riding with them most of the way here, keeping the path ahead clear. I make sure those things are heading the other way when they come through. It’s what they pay me for.”

“And who exactly are you?”

“Dodge. The name’s Dodge.”

“Strange name for a woman,” he growled

“And who are you then?” she asked with a confidence that captured Casey’s attention like fish on a hook.

“James The Bear.”

“Strange name for a man,” replied Dodge , not even pausing to think.

There was a moment of silence during which the tension increased like a girth strap on a horse who knows it’s about to be tightened. Then James The Bear laughed. A loud and raucous all the way from the belly laugh, and the tension evaporated from the room, like a horse breathing out as the rider turns his back.

The group posed her more questions, mostly about the road and it’s condition. They were still wary, especially given she was a woman travelling ahead of a caravan, but it wasn’t completely unheard of, even before the dead had risen. These men were well travelled and these days the world could use all the fighters it could get.

Casey watched with fascinated interest. The confidence Dodge exuded changed the way the men reacted to her. It warmed them up in a matter of minutes. Somehow Dodge managed to command an almost equal level of respect that Casey had never seen between a man and a woman before. She’d spent her whole life in this town, seen plenty of travellers, but none quite like this one.

Oh there were sneers and derisive comments, but they bounced off Dodge like water off a duck, and the men kept coming back with more questions. They just couldn’t seem to help themselves. Perhaps it helped that she was young and pretty. She couldn’t have been much older than Casey herself. But her replies were always on point, quick and clever, and behind their smirks the men did seem genuinely interested. They even asked about her strategies and shared a few of their own.

Casey was suddenly furiously jealous of them. She wanted to take Dodge’s hand, lead her away into a room of their own, and ask all her own burning questions about the world and what it was like to travel, and how Dodge had learned to be the way she was. She wanted to ask Dodge in private where no one else could hear her questions or make fun of them and sit and just listen to the woman talk, just to her. It was never going to happen though. It was nothing but a fantasy.

“Aphrodite.”

“Yes Ares?”

“Tell me you did not have a hand in bringing that particular character here?”

“Well, I did draw her wildcard.”

“That’s not what I mean.”

“Mmm, well maybe a little nudge. A fallen tree here or there, a flooded river might have redirected her path this way. I did no more than I am allowed to do when someone prays to me.”

“Dodge prayed to you?”

“Casey did.”

“Casey, a young American girl in a middle of the nowhere wild west, prayed to you, Aphrodite, the Greek Goddess of Love?”

“Yes, to my painting, of me, hanging on the wall in the poker room.”

“Ah, the painting.” Ares rubbed his goatee.

“I didn’t break any rules.”

“But you are bending them. You promised you’d play it straight this time.”

Aphrodite pouted. “You mean all war and no love? You have your indulgences and I have mine.” She drummed the table with her manicured pearly iridescent painted nails.

“Maybe you two should combine them.” Hades smirked.

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

Artemis shot Hades a narrowed sideways glance. Then she slouched in her chair and rolled her eyes. “When’s the next hunt starting? I’m bored.”

“Patience,” Ares told her. “A good strategist has patience and you haven’t even sorted your itinerary yet.” Her pairs of cards obviously not placed together annoyed him greatly. Not to mention the one that was upside down.

“What’s to sort? All I drew was food items, no weapons, just flour, rice, forgotten pork, and two holy waters, and everybody knows they’re next to useless. What’s the point of dropping these down there? They never notice them.”

“If they don’t see them, use your influence cards.”

“How does one kill a zombie with a piece of pork anyway? And what even is forgotten pork?”

“Well it’s better than a frying pan,” Hades pointed at one of his own cards. “Hey, wait a minute,” he added, suddenly remembering something. “Isn’t that painting in the back room of Venus?”

“I am Venus and Venus is me,” replied Aphrodite.

“That’s what I mean by bending the rules.” Ares pointed a finger.

“Oh let her have it, nobody ever gets to do the boons anymore.” Artemis reached for Hades nearly empty bowl of popcorn and fished around for the unpopped kernels she knew he’d left behind.

“Well if she gets that,” said Hades, “Then I get to boon anyone who preys to Lucifer or the Devil or similar. Deal?”

“Fine, fine,” mumbled Ares with a wave of the hand, “Nobody ever to preys to them anyway.”

Casey picked at her breakfast. She stirred it around her plate, not really eating much of it, but pretending like she was. She knew food was precious and she didn’t want to waste it, but she figured it wasn’t really wasting it if she secretly fed most of it to the chickens. She would eat more later at dinner, when her mother was more likely to be paying attention. She never seemed to be able to win though. If she ate too fast, her mother scolded her for being a pig, if she ate too slow or too little, she was ungrateful. If she asked for more of something her mother went on about how limited food was and how she’d end up looking like Mrs Fields if she kept eating like that. Once or twice, when the helpings had been particularly large, Casey had put her fingers down her throat and forced herself to retch the food back up in the bathroom, but not only had she felt horribly guilty at the waste of it, her mother had heard her and worried that she was ill. She’d forced upon her the worst tasting medicine and then refused to leave her side all night. Casey dared not try that again. Self-consciously she placed one hand over her belly and thought of the mirror upstairs.

After breakfast, Casey did her chores. From where she stood feeding the chickens, she could see Dodge leading her roan mare into one of the paddocks behind the saloon. Casey paused to watch. Beneath her feet, impatient chickens clucked at her. She absentmindedly threw them another handful of feed.

Dodge hitched her horse to a post. From the saddlebag she hung on the fence she drew out some tools, a pick, a comb, and a brush. With firm, gentle hands she took her time cleaning the mare’s fine looking coat. Then with great care she leaned into the horse’s side and clicked at the horse until it raised it’s hoof. She picked out the mud from the hoof quickly and repeated this at all four legs. At one point the horse dropped her leg back down too soon. Dodge did not swear or yell, but nor did she shy away as the mare snorted and shook her head. She simply stroked the stubborn beast and clicked her tongue again. The mare blew raspberries and refused to move. Dodge laughed.

Casey smiled at such a happy carefree sound. The chickens pecked at the hem of her blue skirt and so she threw them more from the bucket, but she could not tear her eyes away from Dodge.

“Oh you stubborn thing,” Dodge jovially scolded at the mare. Then from her bag she drew forth an apple. She held it out so the horse could sniff it.

Velvet lips reached for a bite, but Dodge pulled it away and once again tried to get the mare to raise her hoof back up. It took three more tries of this before the mare finally obeyed and was rewarded with her apple. Not once did Dodge lose her temper or snap at the creature. The entire time she remained gentle but firm. Such kind, strong hands.

As Casey watched she barely even noticed that she was biting her own lip.

Then her mother called from the kitchen door. “Casey, are you just standing there girl? Finish feeding those chickens and come help with lunch.”

Casey quickly scattered the rest of the food and then returned to the kitchen.

From the the paddock, when she stroked her horse, Dodge turned at the sound of Faith’s call. She watched with curious interest as Casey disappeared back into the inn.

The rest of the day passed in a blur and Casey’s chores kept her busy. Dodge left again after lunch to meet the caravan she said was coming. Sure enough, a few hours later a string of covered wagons arrived in town. Trades were made and food was unloaded. There were even some piglets for sale, and the cook declared them a fine replacement for the one out back. It would be pork for dinner tonight. No one would go hungry.

Casey’s stomach churned as she she thought of the fatty gristle and oil she knew would accompany such a meal. She imagined it going straight to her thighs. Imagined them filling up until they were so heavy she could no longer run. Her mind filled with images of trying to move, of being pulled back by reaching hands, and long nails. She imagined those creatures feasting on her own flesh as they had so many others before.

As evening fell, the sky darkened over, threatening rain but a safe night.

Just as the guests were all finishing their dinner, the saloon door crashed open, followed by a flash of lightning. The figure in the door was dressed all in black. He stepped froward into the light as the door swung shut behind him.

“And who might you be?” growled James The Bear.

As the light lit up the man’s face and clothes, they realised he was not dressed in black after all. He was actually wearing brown, a long brown leather coat. Rain water dripped to the floor from his brown leather hat. Even his beard and hair were brown. He hung up his coat, and they could see that he wore four pistols, two at his hips, and two at his back.

“Five Pistols Jack,” said the man in reply once he’d removed his toothpick from his mouth.

“Five pistols, eh?” repeated Dodge with a twisted smile. She held up a pack of cards. “Well, Five Pistols, do you play poker?”

Normally the men would move into the back room for poker, but since it was Dodge who had suggested it, and they weren’t quite ready to permit her fully into the fold yet, they stayed in the main area of the saloon. She had somehow managed to get herself served dinner with them tonight though, even if she had been the last. Casey wasn't sure quite how she'd pulled that off.

Dodge and the men played well but no one could beat the red and white-clothed priest. From the corner of the room, the dark priest grumbled and mumbled something about gambling being a sin.

On the other side of the room, Casey and the rest of the women waited as Billy carried them their food.

Out of the corner of her eye, Casey watched the poker game. Billy must have been doing the same, for it was during one intense round that there came a sudden loud shatter.

Plates and pork covered the floor. Billy looked down at the dropped plate with wide fearful eyes.

“Oh you useless boy!” cried Faith. “Can’t even serve the food right.”

Billy stood frozen. His eyes wide.

Casey felt bad for him. Ignoring her mother’s fury, she got up to take the plates from Billy. “It’s okay,” she whispered.

“No! Don’t you dare!” cried Faith. Her lips quivered. “That’s his job. You put those down and be seated.”

Billy’s hands shook, but Casey’s words had jerked him out of his stupor and he quickly set the remaining plates down on the table and headed for the kitchen to get a mop.

Casey reached down and started picking up bits of china.

“I said return to your seat.” spoke Faith in a booming voice once more.

Every eye in the saloon was now on them.

“I just thought I’d help,” Casey replied quietly with a wince, but she did as she was told.

As Billy replaced the lost meal and cleaned up the mess on the floor, all focus slowly returned to the poker game, all but for one.

From half-way across the room, unnoticed by Casey, Dodge watched, glancing back to her own table only ever so occasionally to make a bet or fold her hand.

The food was served to the women. Billy ate his in the kitchen, after he’d fed the pigs.

Casey frowned at the thick globules of fat that the pork sat in. She stirred it around and ate slowly, hoping that in the process some of it might evaporate.

Her mother slapped the back of her hand. In a much quieter voice than earlier, but not lacking any of the harshness, she said, “For goodness sakes Casey. Eat your food. Don’t play with it.”

Casey nodded and put a piece of moist fatty pork in her mouth. She chewed it slowly. The texture sickened her.

By a stroke of luck, her mother was distracted by a question from Mrs Henderson. Thinking herself very stealthy, Casey slipped some of the pork into the pocket of her dress. Neither her mother nor Mrs Henderson noticed. But across the room, Dodge did.