Ballad of Dell Jennings ~RED DEAD REDEMPTION~

She is no longer

                                                                          Part 1: She is no longer

          One misstep.

The tiniest error would unravel her plans, forever sealing her fate once the train reached Utica. She couldn't waste another moment, pondering the ramifications of her decision.

She needed to leave. Now.

Scrunching the worn leather of her satchel strap into a tense ball, she proceeds down the few metal steps, carefully placing her feet onto the cemented floor of the station. Exhaling a ragged breath, she took in the sight of the Creedstad Station. The railroad junction was bustling; travelers swarming the outdoor platforms, climbing in and out of the plethora of stilled locomotives. Some teary-eyed while embracing relatives, some carrying heavy luggage as they boarded their designated car, while others sat patiently on the shaded wooden benches, glancing often up at the station's huge clock to judge the arrival of their own train.

Usually, this liveliness of a train station is seen in a big city, not a rural town, but Creedstad was the expectation. The railroad is connected to two cities, depending on direction, with Shawnee to the North and Wichita to the South. Many traveling folks used the quiet lakeside community as a rest stop before taking the long journey to one of the forming metropolitans.

"Move it, kid!" She let out a surprised yelp as a hand shoved her in the center of the back, causing her to stumble forwards. Grasping on the rail of a nearby bench to prevent her from falling face-first into the pavement, she swiftly whipped her head around, fury practically dripping from the tip of her tongue.

But she paused.

She was nobody now. When stepping off that wrecked train, she forfeited her status.

She was no one. Her name, which weighed as much as gold, is still on the train.

For once in her life, she was voiceless.

She never contended to the scowling crewmen who shoved her aside to make a straight path for a well-dressed couple and their entourage of children and servants, exiting the same train.

She just glared at the backs of the well-to-do family and the crewmen, mentally spitting out insults like an enraged rattler. Grabbing the rim of her ill-fitting derby, she stood properly on her feet and brushed off invisible dust particles from her too-loose pants, the waistband slipping lower and lower with every swipe of her hand. I need to find a tailor. She thought with a grimace, tugging the lax fabric over her hips as she watched the wretched train shriek its disembark.

When the train vanished beyond the horizontal line when the emotions truly strike her. She maintained to steady herself, once again, white-knuckling the back of an empty bench. A woman reading on the opposite bench glanced up from her book and spare a curious frown at the lithe child in the billowing shirt and baggy trousers, before quickly returning to the novel in her lap. Normally, she would be utterly horrified by her behavior, nearly crumpled to the polished floor like a ragdoll.

But she couldn't fret on frivolous things. She needed to leave Creedstad immediately.

Although no one knows that she was gone, especially her "guide", an acquaintance of Odette, who never paid any interest in her, only the endless supply of gin stored in his carry-on. He would remain drunk and snoring until the train arrives at Shawnee.

And by the time, her disappearance is reported to the Sheriff, Odette, and her family. She would be long gone.

She smiled, it's been a long time since such a pleasant expression sat upon her face.

                                                                                * * *

        Nighttime approached when she finally put the second element of her plan in motion. Standing in a darkened alleyway, she silently studied the saloon across the way. The saloon pulsed with life, music and loud laughter streaming out the dimly lit windows, filling the otherwise tranquil night with sound. She glanced both ways down the long dirt-paved road, Creedstad called 'Main Street'; no sight of a strolling townsperson or a patrolman.

Perfect.

She crept forward towards her mark; Her target, being the saloon's hitching post.

Carefully slinked towards the line of horses, tied and patiently waiting for their rider's return, she continued down the line of beasts, towards the horse that piqued her interest, a dark brown Turkoman.

She first noticed the Bronco while scoping the establishment and overheard a loud laugh when the Turkoman's rider, a weathered-looking man with slightly dirty clothes, jumped off the saddle alongside his friend who was equally as unkempt. By the way, the two men stumble up the few steps of the saloon, they were already lush. Probably got throw out of the other saloon that sat on the outskirts of Creedstad and came to continue whatever excitement they experienced at the other bar.

Walking up to the hitching post, she grabbed ahold of the Turkoman's reins and began loosing the knot tethering the battered leather to the wooden post. She let out wordlessly cheer when the knot came undone but immediately tensed up as the Turkoman let out a whinny, loud enough to echo down the deserted road. Thankfully, the rowdy noise of the saloon deafened any chance of a patron hearing and investigating the random outburst of the mare.

The tension drained slowly from her body when realizing that no one noticed the loudness of the mare, protesting against being stolen. She turned around, shushing the vigilant mare with a "Quiet, girl," as she reached into her satchel, presenting a sugar cube to the Turkoman.

The pretty mare seemingly studied the gift in the young girl's hand, then leaned forward and accepted it with some hesitation. She smiled gleefully, her Granddaddy would always quietly remarks how easily horses trusted her when she would sneak off to the stables when he silently saunters in, while she would brush her Father's gifted stallions.

"Ya got one of the greatest gifts of the West" Her Granddaddy would murmur, rarely speaking louder than a whisper, which often forces folks to use their fullest audible ability to hear the elder man 's mutterings. Knowing that her time in Creedstad just about up, she led the equine away from the saloon and promptly out of town, the two didn't stop until Creedstad's lights were a bright blur in the distance and the dirt road became a narrow pathway through the tall grass.

"I did it," She whispered into the summer night, watching the outline of the sleeping town, she heard a soft huff behind her. Letting out a soft laugh, she reached out to pet the snort of the mare "We did it, I guess." Then the realization hit her "I didn't give you a name, pretty lady! How rude of me." She only ponders for a moment before a wide grin appeared upon her face "I'll call you Jolie! It means "pretty" in French, do you like it?" The filly neigh in approval.

"Well, then it's settled! Jolie and..." Her voice drifted off into the summer night breeze, what should she call herself?

"Jolie and...Dell," She mouthed the name over her tongue a few times like tasting a new kind of candy, "That's right, my name is Dell."

That night on the outskirts of Creedstad marked the birth of Dell Jennings.