Chapter 1

“You ain’t gonna believe what I just heard,” said Tom, his voice filled with a mix of shock and excitement as he slammed his hand on the counter of the dusty saloon.

“What’s got you all riled up, Tom?” The bartender, a grizzled man named Joe, barely looked up from wiping the same spot on the bar for the hundredth time that day.

“Hear me out, Joe,” Tom leaned in closer, his eyes wide. “The new saloon over in Dustbowl Junction, they’re plannin’ somethin’...”

“Let me guess,” Joe interrupted with a sigh, “another shootin’ tournament?”

“Nope, somethin’ a whole lot more ... spicy.”

Joe raised an eyebrow, setting the glass down. “Well, don’t keep me hangin’. What is it?”

“They’re gonna have a naked catfight!” Tom’s words echoed through the saloon, drawing the attention of the few patrons scattered about.

A hush fell over the room, the only sound being the crackling of the fireplace and the distant clink of a piano from the brothel next door.

“You’re joshin’ me,” Joe said, his skepticism palpable.

“Cross my heart,” Tom replied, his grin widening. “Two gals, no clothes, just bare knuckles and the wild west in their eyes.”

Joe’s jaw dropped, the cloth he was holding hovering in mid-air. “Naked ... and fightin’?”

“Yep,” Tom nodded, “and the kicker is, they’re doin’ it for gamblin’ stakes!”

The room buzzed with whispers, the men’s eyes lighting up with curiosity and anticipation.

“What kind of folks would pay to watch such a thing?” One patron spoke up from the corner, his curiosity piqued.

“The kind of folks who’ve seen it all, I reckon,” another man quipped, earning a round of chuckles.

The news of the unorthodox event spread through the town of Redemption like wildfire, igniting a firestorm of opinions and speculation. Some spoke in hushed tones, sharing lewd jokes and winks, while others condemned it as an affront to decency.

But amidst the din of the saloon, the question remained: who would dare to take part in such a scandalous affair?

The sun was setting, casting long shadows across the floor, and the air grew thick with tension. It was clear that Tom’s revelation had stirred the pot, and the townsfolk were eager to see if the rumor would hold water or fizzle out like a wet firecracker.

As the whiskey flowed, so did the conjectures and the bets. Names of potential participants were tossed around like poker chips, and the anticipation grew with every clink of the glasses.

“I bet it’ll be those two sisters, the Calico twins,” one patron suggested, his leer speaking volumes about his intentions.

“Nah, they’re too classy for that,” another retorted, though his voice held a hint of doubt.

The conversation grew heated as more and more men placed their bets, the stakes rising with every passing moment.

“It’s gotta be someone desperate or crazy enough to do it,” a burly miner said, stroking his thick beard thoughtfully.

“Well, if it’s desperation you’re lookin’ for, I’d put my money on Velma ‘Sharp Mouth’ Mann,” Joe spoke up, his voice carrying over the growing murmurs.

The room fell silent at the mention of the infamous mother-daughter duo. Velma was known for her quick tongue and even quicker fists, and her daughter, young and stubborn as they come, had inherited her mother’s fiery spirit.

“Mrs. Velma and Miss Louise, in a naked catfight?” someone scoffed. “They’d tear each other apart before they even made it to the saloon.”

The tension in the room was palpable as the townsfolk considered the possibility. Velma and her daughter had a tumultuous relationship, known for their public shouting matches and occasional physical altercations. The thought of them fighting in a controlled, albeit bizarre, setting was almost too good to be true.

Mrs. Velma Mann, known for her voluptuous figure and sharp tongue, had been a topic of gossip in Redemption for as long as anyone could remember. Her ample breasts and smooth, sun-kissed skin were the envy of many, and the fear of many more. She was a woman who had seen hardship, and it had etched a fiery resilience into every line of her body.

Her daughter, Louise, was a spitting image of her mother, though her youth had blessed her with an even more striking beauty. Her full, round breasts defied gravity, and her skin was as soft and unblemished as freshly drawn milk. The way she moved, with the grace of a mountain lion and the confidence of a seasoned gunslinger, had men’s heads turning whenever she walked down the street.

But it was her reputation that had the town truly talking. With a list of conquests longer than the Mississippi, she had earned a name that made even the most stoic of men blush. Her sexual escapades were the subject of whispers behind saloon doors and the envy of every woman who had ever felt the sting of loneliness in their marriage bed.

Velma, on the other hand, was a woman of the night in more ways than one. Her fiery spirit was matched only by her fiery red hair, and she had long ago learned to use her body as a weapon as much as her sharp tongue. Her hatred for her daughter’s promiscuity was a well-known fact, a simmering anger that often spilled over into their tumultuous fights.

As the days ticked by, the whispers grew louder, and the bets grew bolder. The townsfolk speculated about who would take up the challenge, and the saloon in Dustbowl Junction became the subject of every conversation. Some claimed it was all a ruse, a ploy to draw in more business and stir up excitement in the otherwise mundane lives of the townsfolk. Others were convinced that the match would indeed take place, and they eagerly awaited the day with a mix of anticipation and dread.

In the heart of Redemption, Velma and Louise went about their days, oblivious to the storm brewing around them. Velma worked the tables at the local gambling hall, her sharp eyes scanning for any sign of cheating, while Louise tended to the garden of their small cottage, her thoughts lost in the tangles of her tumultuous love life.

One scorching afternoon, as the sun blazed down like the fury of a thousand angry gods, a tall, shadowy figure slithered into town. His name was Snake Eyes, and he had a proposition that would make even the most jaded of gamblers salivate. His sly smile and serpentine gaze suggested a man who knew the value of a good bet, and he had one to offer that was too tempting to resist.

“I’ve got a little bird that tells me you’ve got a mouth that could cut through a man’s pride, Miss Louise,” Snake Eyes whispered to her as she watered the wilting flowers in the garden, his voice as smooth as a river stone. “But what I’m about to say might just make you spit nails.”

Her curiosity piqued, Louise straightened up, her ample chest heaving as she wiped the sweat from her brow with the back of her hand. “What’s that, mister?” she said, her eyes narrowing in suspicion.

Snake Eyes leaned in closer, his breath hot against her neck. “A little birdie told me that you and your mama have had your fair share of disagreements,” he said, his tone a serpent’s hiss. “How about we settle things in a more ... entertaining way?”