Chapter 3: The Sly Eye

The crowd’s energy grew as the fight began, their shouts and cheers a symphony of chaos. Mrs. Tyler struck first, her hand moving with the speed of a cobra’s. Mrs. Walker stumbled back, the blow glancing off her rock-solid abs. The room fell silent for a heartbeat, and then erupted as Mrs. Tyler began to dance around her opponent, her movements a blur of fists and legs. But Mrs. Walker was not one to be underestimated. With a roar that seemed to shake the very foundations of the saloon, she lunged forward, her fist connecting with Mrs. Tyler’s jaw with a sound that could be heard over the cacophony.

Mrs. Tyler dropped like a stone, her body hitting the dirt floor with a thud that sent the chicken into a panic. The saloon owner looked shocked, his mouth hanging open as Mrs. Walker raised her arms in victory, her teeth bared in a snarl of triumph. The crowd was on its feet, their shouts and applause deafening as the coins rained down around her, a golden shower that reflected the fire in her eyes.

Bull watched as the gambler reluctantly handed over his winnings, his own pockets now significantly heavier. He knew he had made the right choice, his instincts had not led him astray.

The next match was announced with a flourish that seemed almost anticlimactic after the brutal display of power and cunning that was Mrs. Walker’s victory. “And now, for your viewing pleasure, we have the cunning Mrs. Hazel ‘Sly Eye’ Church taking on the notorious Miss Naomi ‘Horse Fucker’ Duncan!” The crowd roared, a mix of excitement and disgust coloring their voices.

Mrs. Church was a woman of indeterminate age, her features sharp and her eyes as cold as a mountain stream. Her reputation for cheating and deceit was as much a part of her as the ragged dress she wore. She slithered into the ring, her eyes darting around the room, searching for any sign of weakness. Miss Duncan, on the other hand, strode in with the confidence of a woman who had earned her name through sheer brutality. Her skin was the color of midnight, her body muscular and scarred from countless battles. Her eyes were as dark as her name suggested, and the way she moved spoke of a strength that was as unyielding as the desert itself.