Clockwork Cowboy

Chapter 1

Her fingers itched to find their way into his pants. He had something in there that she wanted. That she needed. She had to have it, or she would have a disaster on her hands. Nova could see the bulge in the fabric from there. But was her mind playing tricks on her? Could a man so perfect exist?

No. He was a figment of her overactive imagination. Seated amongst the denture decay which made up the Blue Bottle Saloon's motley audience, his legs crossed loosely, limbs relaxed. Even the smile that tugged at the corners of his mouth was unruffled. Yet, there, in his expression, lay a dark and smoldering intensity that was in complete contrast to his posture. A depth which made Nova's heart lurch. Well, it would have, she decided. But with teeth so suspiciously intact, even and white against his sun-kissed skin... well if that didn't scream "Imaginary Friend" she wasn't sure what would.

And Nova knew about created cronies, he'd been bugging her for years. Floating through walls - in an oddly reassuring way. His soulful chocolate brown eyes brimming with laughter. Encouraging her to find humor in every situation.

Tonight he was far from reassuring. His buttocks hadn't levitated once.

The unsuspecting cowboy glanced up, and Nova managed to stop herself from keeling forward in fright, revealing her hidey-hole behind the Saloon's plush velvet curtains. He had black eyes! Charcoal black like the Devil himself! Nova could understand that one's imagination might want to evolve over the years, but so suddenly?

And what was that in his hand? She focused on the glass of amber liquid, feeling her stomach jolt nervously. Nova's hand sought the lacing at the front of her leather, steel boned corset. She needed air! Or to wave smelling salts about in an enthusiastic fashion before she dropped like a buffalo that had been fired upon.

Yes, there was something a bit off. There was no way in hell, after growing up with a drunk for a father, that she would conjure up the Perfect Man and have him holding anything more than a glass of water.

He was head and shoulders above every other man in the room. Black locks curling into his starched white collar. Goggles hung, like a functional cravat, about his neck. While his attire wasn't extravagant it whispered of quality, much like the man himself. Surely he was too young to be so finely dressed? With apparel worn by airship Captains, and a look of authority about him... those wide, broad, shoulders, which Nova struggled to believe any man could stay upright beneath.

If he wasn't a figment of her imagination? Nova wiped her damp palms discreetly on her brown and cream striped stockings. Then the answer was simple: the bulging wallet hidden in his jeans and those solid gold cufflinks, adorning his shirt, were going to find their way into her pocket. Nova had never stolen anything before in her life. But she figured it must be simple. How many times a street urchin had lifted a dime from her billowy pockets without Nova feeling so much as the fabric swish... if a child could do it, then she could too. Couldn't she?

She'd seen her workmates flicking through wads of cash. 'You've just got to take what you deserve!' one had told her with a thick German accent. She'd been revolted by their dishonesty. But she no longer had the luxury of being honest.

There was no time for wringing her hands and worrying needlessly about her reputation. Her stock relied on it. Her workers depended on it. And her poor dear Mama would be dead in her grave by the end of winter if Nova didn't at least attempt it.

An image of her hay barn sprang to mind. So soaked in water that the hay was almost swimming laps about the barn. And in such fine weather! She didn't have time to worry about the hows and whys. Firstly she would resolve her financial difficulties, and then she would work out the mystery behind the strangely saturated feed.

And with a brutal winter approaching Nova had to act fast. A tug of her blonde wig (to ensure the pins were secured) Nova sucked in a breath. She wasn't the kind of woman to run from a challenge. So, she had a gigantic problem that needed to be solved. Well, it just so happened that the solution had strolled in and sat his buttocks down by the bar, basically begging her to take everything he owned. A black eyed apparition with two solid gold cufflinks and bulging wallet.  

Nova Radcliffe stepped closer to the stage... Under the guise of India Sommers (her saloon girl persona) she would charm the pants, and thereby his wallet, right off him.

Things were on the mend.