Chapter 1

“Young’un, you ain’t got no call to be out here at this hour,” the old man grunted, squinting through the dusty screen door.

Ralph ‘the peep’ Bailey, a sixteen old years boy, looked up from the patch of yellowed grass at the edge of town. The sun had already dipped below the horizon, leaving the deserted street bathed in the fading glow of dusk. He knew he wasn’t supposed to be out here, but he couldn’t resist the siren call of the saloon’s distant laughter. Twelve years old and already a legend in his own mind, he had earned his peculiar nickname for his uncanny ability to peek into places where he shouldn’t.

He brushed a lock of shaggy hair from his eyes and adjusted the wire-rimmed glasses that never quite sat straight on his nose. The glasses were a hand-me-down from his older brother, who had outgrown them and left for the city in search of better prospects. Ralph liked them, though. They made him feel a little less like the awkward kid everyone knew and a little more like a secret agent on a mission. And tonight’s mission was clear: to sneak a peek at Miss Christina ‘Big Busty’ Baker, the new burlesque dancer at the Golden Garter.

The saloon’s lights flickered as the music grew louder, a siren’s song to his curious soul. The wooden boards of the porch creaked under his dusty boots as he tiptoed closer, his heart racing like a spooked colt. Through the gap between the saloon’s swinging doors, he could see the crowd of men, their faces a mix of shadow and candlelight. They were a rowdy bunch, their cheers and hollers echoing through the open windows like a pack of coyotes on a moonlit hunt.

Ralph took a deep breath, tasting the mix of sweat, whiskey, and cigar smoke that wafted out. He’d never seen a burlesque show before, but he’d heard the whispers from the older boys at school. They talked about it with hushed voices and wide eyes, sharing tales of beauty and temptation that had fueled his imagination for months. He felt a strange excitement coil in his belly, a mix of fear and thrill that made him feel alive in a way he’d never felt before.

Crouching low, he slipped into the alley beside the saloon. It was quieter here, but the rhythmic thump of a piano and the jingle of a tambourine grew clearer with every step. At the back, a solitary window, slightly ajar, offered a perfect view into the dimly lit dressing room. He peered through, his breath fogging the dusty glass. There she was, Miss Christina herself, her silhouette outlined by the candlelight, her figure a symphony of curves that seemed to ripple and shimmer like a mirage.

He watched, entranced, as she began to unbutton her blouse, revealing a glimpse of creamy skin and a hint of red lace. His cheeks flushed hotter than the sunburn he’d nursed all summer, and his heart hammered in his chest. But just as he was about to get the full show, the window slammed shut with a bang. The sound startled him so badly he stumbled backward, knocking over a wooden crate filled with empty bottles. The clatter echoed down the alley like a gunshot.

Panic seized him. He scrambled to his feet, heart racing. The sound of footsteps approached, heavy and purposeful. The saloon’s back door swung open, and a burly figure filled the frame, a beefy hand on the handle of a bullwhip. “What’s the ruckus, boy?” the bouncer bellowed, his voice rattling the glass in the windowpanes.

Ralph knew he was caught. His thoughts raced, but his feet remained rooted to the spot. The man stepped closer, the whip cracking once, twice, in the air. It was now or never. He took off, his legs pumping like pistons as he sprinted away from the alley. His lungs burned and his side ached, but he didn’t dare look back. The bouncer’s curses and the thwack of the whip chased him down the dark street, a symphony of fear and adrenaline.

The chase was on, and young Ralph ‘the peep’ Bailey had just become the town’s most notorious fugitive. His heart hammered a wild beat, and the world around him blurred into a dusty haze. He didn’t know where he was running to, only that he had to escape the wrath of the man who had caught him in the act. His mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, his future uncertain. But as the sounds of pursuit grew fainter, a grin began to tug at the corners of his mouth. It was the most exciting night of his life, and he hadn’t even made it inside the Golden Garter yet.

The town of Dustbowl was small, and the streets were eerily quiet at this hour. The occasional flicker of candlelight from a window was the only indication of life. He ducked into an alleyway, his breath coming in ragged gasps, and leaned against the rough brick of the building. His hands trembled, but there was a spark of triumph in his eyes. He had evaded the bouncer, and he had seen a glimpse of the forbidden fruit that was Miss Christina.

The alley was tight, lined with more crates and barrels that cast strange, looming shadows in the moonlight. He waited, listening intently, until he was sure the danger had passed. The cobblestone was cold under his palms, grounding him as he gathered his wits. He knew he couldn’t go home yet. Not like this. Not without a story to tell.

He took a moment to catch his breath, his chest heaving. The smell of the alley, a mix of rotting vegetables and stale urine, brought him back to reality with a jolt. He couldn’t let his curiosity lead him into trouble again, not tonight. But as he straightened his glasses, a glint of something shiny caught his eye. It was a gold locket, half-buried in the dirt. He picked it up, brushing off the grime to reveal an intricate pattern and the initials “C.B.” It had to be hers. Miss Christina had lost it, and he had found it.

Ralph felt a thrill surge through him. Here was his chance for redemption, his ticket to the show. He pocketed the locket, his mind racing with a new plan. He’d return it to her, play the gallant hero. Maybe she’d thank him with a private performance. Or at least a smile. He took a deep breath and set off again, his steps lighter, the fear replaced by a newfound sense of purpose.