You stood out like a sore thumb, you looked like what you were, a rich girl. Your parents had always kept you hidden, saying you weren’t good for the outside world. But you had gotten tired of the books and staring at the wall.

You had snuck out to the saloon at the next town over. Music filled the air, it was filled to the brim with working girls and drunken men. A fellow who sat at the poker table caught your eye. He too stuck out, he looked expensive. He was well groomed, fancy vest adorned with chains, rings shining under the lights, he seemed cocky in how he played against the others.