Young, skinny, wiry fellows, not over 18. Must be expert riders, willing to risk death daily. Orphans preferred. Wages $25 per week. Apply PONY EXPRESS OFFICE.
The Pony Express was created to get the mail form coast to coast. Boys became men, I...
"Billy, you've got to be kidding me! I'm not going to go to some strange town just because you're bored."
"Aww, come on Bell!", Billy was pleading at this point. Bellamy was a tough nut to crack as it she was coming to find out - she had her parent's hard working attitude and a mind of her own.
As fate or bad luck would have it, a sign advertising the next town appeared on the side of the trail: Fortune, friendliest little town in the territory - 6 miles. Billy looked at her partner expectantly.
"Fine, we can stop there for a couple of hours then we are on our way. You know that we are needed back at the station with Papa and Mama gone to Fort Laramie.", Bellamy wasn't happy about it, but she knew that Billy would not let up on her, so she tried to compromise.
The blonde with her grinned, "A couple of hours. I'll even buy the drinks."
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For being the friendliest little town in the territory, the townspeople didn't really smile a whole lot. Most of them just kept their heads down instead of greeting the two riders. Those that didn't avoid their gaze eyed them with an indescribable emotion. Bellamy's gut was churning - a sure sign that there would be nothing but trouble ahead. Billy, however, was in her element. The Express Rider was very much a people person and was constantly getting into a predicament because of her loud mouth and flamboyant ways. They reined up in front of a saloon that promised the coldest beer in the country on a faded sign above the door. Inside the typical dim interior there were a few people scattered around at the tables and bar.
"Two Sarsaparillas if you got 'em", Billy directed the bartender, "Does your promise of the coldest beer in the country hold for them too?"
Bellamy looked around them while they waited. A couple of saloon girls loitered at the card tables, trying to sell drinks to the players. At one of the back tables sat a man with a sheriff's badge. He was watching the two girls with a calculative eye. When the dark haired girl met his gaze with a scowl, he dropped his line of sight to the table before him.
"Two dollars then," the bartender spoke.
"Two dollars! Are you crazy!?", Billy was incredulous. When the man started to remove the glasses she stopped him, "Wait a minute. Pay the man Bellamy."
"You said you were paying!", Bellamy hissed.
"Yeah, well I forgot that my money was back at the station," the blonde shrugged it off, "Now would you please pay the man so we can get our drinks."
Heaving a sigh Bellamy slapped some coins on the bar. Billy led the way over to a vacant table where they sat down. To their right a card game was going on. Four people sat at the table: a man who wore the mark of a gambler, the house dealer, a saloon girl, and a dusty trail hand. There was something odd with the way the game was rolling. Despite her obvious skill the saloon girl, and the trail hand couldn't seem to catch a break. The pair of Express Riders watched the game from behind the saloon girl. Her deals were often fairly decent, but somehow they were always beaten by either the gambler or the house dealer.
