Chapter Text
Everyone in this forsaken town, which has served as a stopover for such crooks and gamblers, breathed in the stench of gunpowder and cigars. You called this awful place home and now wish you had not.
You're an impoverished girl struggling to make ends meet. You want to save as much money as possible, but the only position you could find was as the main waitress at this establishment your deceased father had left your siblings but you only stayed to keep this place running.
It was dusk, the last of the sun's rays were dropping low and gloriously over the entire town, and all you had to light were the lantern you had placed in your tavern.
"Last one." With a small grunt, you reach the final lantern and light it with a match struck by the pole next to you as you were outside. Once your gaze diverted away from the source of light that shined bright, you looked out to the sandy grounds and the people who were out and about doing their usual things, but what caught your attention was the numerous papers littering the ground.
Taking a glimpse of them as they fluttered in the wind, you only saw the name and a glance of this man's face. "Boothill?" Your voice was a mere whisper carried along with the posters and you shook your head, walking back into the tavern while picking up your skirts.
Aside from the occasional chirp and chatter from your other waitresses— one of whom appeared to be holding the newest wanted poster in her hands—all was now silent in your tavern. One did speak up. "Ain't he sooo fine~?" She looked up at you as you snatch it out of the girl's hand, and she rolled her eyes as you tapped a painted finger against the man's face.
"Don't be fallin' for these damn pigs, nothin' more than a crook." A small scoff crossed your painted lips as you lifted up a leg to search within your boot for another match but couldn't find one, so you ripped it in front of the gathering.
"Aw come now, (Y/n)! Don't be like that..he's the talk of the town, and I heard he's more handsome in person..." This waitress with high pigtails tells the other gossiping women, you merely shrugged. "Don't care. I don't wanna be fallin' for a gangster of a casanova or a gun slingin' moron."
With a rag in hand, you began to scour each table clean of the muck and grime that had accumulated from the morning's service. Your hands ached, but you couldn't do anything to assist, and treatment was quite expensive. Looking down at the mahogany wood of the last table you were polishing, you caught a sight of yourself.
You attempted to smile despite the fact that it was difficult; you were fatigued and could not take a break.
The unexpected opening of both doors caused every worker in the tavern to look up; men and women began to rush in, and you were eager to assist them in settling down.
One table piqued your interest, so you snapped your fingers and had your superb pianist play his favorite song before turning to confront the town's sheriff, who was surrounded by several unruly guys starting to light cigars and cigarettes.
"What can I do for ya fine gentleman?" A delicate hand on your chin, your long lashes fluttering, you only kept your eyes upon this fine man who also kept your eye. "Look at you, got a new dress? And of my favorite color...." Gallagher says with a wolf whistle escaping his lips, watching you do a small twirl, and it made him almost drop his cigar on the floor. Your lips form a false sweet smile, and then you sigh faintly.
"I do like red too, was a lot of money though." You lowered your head while biting your bottom plush lip, leaning down far into Gallagher's ear, and your breasts nearly spilled out in front of him; he was a flustering mess, his normally drowsy eyes expanding and his Adam's apple bouncing nervously. “I’ve been workin’ pretty hard, y’know what I mean?” You tell him in a low whisper.
However, to his demise, you suddenly piqued up and laughed a little. "Again, what can I get for ya boys?"
As you started to write down each order—the majority of which were for whiskey and beers from the tap—you became aware that Gallagher was restless in his chair out of the corner of your eye.
The deep veins in his hands were bulging as they were balled up in fists, frustratingly huffing air. He looks up to you through his locks of brown hair and suddenly swung his leg around the other. "Did ya get that (Y/n)?" One of the men said. You blinked owlishly, now nodding your head. "Of course I did!"
You kept conversation with the table and Gallagher until you hear one of your waitresses raise her voice loudly and the sudden noise of glass breaking. "Sorry ya'll, but I must be going." You tell them trying to leave the table but Gallagher takes your hand, making you come to a sudden halt and turn back to him. "I'll see you later alright?" With you removing your hand, you blow a kiss to him and rushed over to the table.
"What happened here?" Your eyes narrowed at the liquor that was spilled all over the floor and this man's table. "Oh! I'm terribly sorry that this happened sir!" You hurriedly shooed away the waitress and, still holding the rag, began wiping away the amber-colored liquid that glistened so brightly by dropping to your knees.
You were so occupied cleaning up the mess that you didn't hear the mysterious man's sultry chuckle or see the puff of smoke above your head.
However, the more you see of this man, your (e/c) orbs began to widen, you caught glimpse of metal and then come to a sudden stop to see his silver hand curl around your chin to lift it up. "Thank ya darlin...."
You could only stare, stare in sheer terror at this sought-after man hovering over you...