Guns of Fire and Satin
A golden sunset cast over a dusty western town. A horse trots down the road. It stops in front of a saloon. A woman hops off, her long black coat tails flutter over her knee-high boots, her hefty pants tucked into them. She removes her wide-brim black hat to reveal wild, curly auburn hair that blends into the backdrop of the sunset’s golden-orange ambers with reddish undertones. While her dark attire says bounty hunter undertaker, with a feminine touch. She ropes her horse and looks up at the freshly painted sign: “Wyatt Saloon”. A grin crawls across her face. -+-+- Inside the saloon, drunken men gaze at the bartender: rosy-cheeks, silky skin, curly brown hair in a loose updo. Hand gestures like snow white delicate strokes almost as if dancing in graceful movements. like she belongs in a princess story not a western town, certainly not as a bartender serving rumbunctious surly men. Lilianna. “C’mon honey! Only for a little while! Sing for me!” a man slurs and prods at her. Suddenly eve...
