It had been a long, dust-choked ride across the frontier, the kind that left towns clinging to the horizon like mirages. By the 1870s, places like this sprang up fast along rail lines and cattle trails. The saloon doors creaked as she stepped inside, spurs faintly chiming, the room quieting just enough to notice.

“Whiskey,” she said calmly, resting a gloved hand near her holster. She took no chances in towns like these.