Lyla Jones, Bounty Hunter

     Lyla couldn’t remember what woke her, the screeching of metal on metal and the sudden jolt of a halting train, or the nudging of the ebony mustang that shared the boxcar with her. She pushed the brim of her hat away from her face and she squinted to make out her surroundings from the slivers of light that filtered in from the cracks of the doors.The gelding nudged her again, making a quiet whinny. 

     “I’m awake!” she groaned sleepily, pulling herself off the floor, and dusting off her canvas trousers. She pushed a strand of orange hair away from her face and behind a pointed elvish ear. She stretched and yawned. 

     She tightened her gun belt and slid the retention strap off the hammer of the revolver secured to her leg. She unholstered the pistol and flipped the cylinder out. All six chambers were filled with brass .45 caliber rounds. She clicked the cylinder back in and returned the revolver to the holster. A large knife encased in a leather sheath also hung off the belt.

     She found her mahogany coat, atop one of the shipping crates that took up a good portion of boxcar, and pulled it on. The horse nudged her again. 

     He pawed the floor and snorted.

     “Alright! Alright! Gimme a second,” she grunted, “You need not be so impatient Ashes.” She slid open the car’s doors and blinked as the bright light hit her face. She lead the horse out of the car and onto the loading platform. She put her boot into the stirrup and pulled herself atop the horse. She rode her way off the platform and around the station. A wooden sign hanging outside read, ‘Bywater Station & Telegraph Office’. 

     She reached into her breast pocket and withdrew a folded piece of paper. She unfolded it and stopped to read it. The letterhead read, ‘Soldera Telegraph Service’. 

RECIEVED AT:

COLBY’S RIDGE TELEGRAPH OFFICE

7.14.89

TO: L. JONES

EMPANEL, MEET MR. DWYER AT WASP CLUB, BYWATER, TO DISCUSS JOB OPPORTUNITY.

     She had received the telegram three days ago, and had hopped aboard the train from Colby’s Ridge, to Fork Junction and then onwards to Bywater. 

Bywater was the fourth largest town in the Bowl, after Beaconsville, Colbert’s Point, and Sullivan. It had everything an up and coming town needed, an airfield, a station, a jail, a town hall, several clubs and bars, a park, docks, an airship port, and it even had paved roads.

     She hated coming to Bywater. As a rule, she avoided it as much as possible. It felt claustrophobic with the automobiles puttering about, and sidewalks filled with people. But the prospect of a job, was reason enough to visit.