Chapter 2

The group of them spilled out onto the street, the laughter and chatter bouncing off the clapboard buildings like a gust of wind through a canyon. The air was cooler now, the stars winking into existence one by one in the darkening sky. The sound of their boots echoed down the empty streets, punctuated by the occasional shout from a distant corner. The town’s lawlessness was a living, breathing entity, a specter that hovered over every interaction, every deal made or broken.

Madame Hilda’s was a sight to behold, even in the grimy landscape of the gold rush town. The red lights glowed like embers in the night, beckoning the desperate and the lonely. The building itself was a two-story affair with a fresh coat of paint that looked out of place amidst the dust and despair. The door swung open, revealing a plush interior that smelled faintly of perfume and despair. The madame herself was a sight to behold—a voluptuous woman with a stern gaze and a smile that could melt gold. She looked them over, her eyes lingering on Amos, and nodded. “Welcome, gentlemen. I see you’ve had a successful evening.”

The miners eagerly followed her upstairs, chattering like schoolboys, their excitement palpable. Amos trailed behind, his thoughts racing. He hadn’t been in a place like this in years, not since he had lost everything. The walls seemed to whisper the secrets of a thousand lost souls, the creaks of the floorboards echoing the cries of those who had sought refuge here. The women lined the hallway, each trying to outdo the other in beauty and allure. They were a sad reminder of the cost of the gold fever that had brought him here.

Amos’s gaze landed on a young woman named Bertie ‘the Busty’ Reilly. She was a stark contrast to the others, with a robust figure that filled out her corset in a way that left little to the imagination. Her red hair was piled high on her head, a fiery crown that matched her vibrant personality. Her eyes, a vivid green, sparkled with mischief and intelligence, hinting at a spirit that had not yet been fully crushed by the town’s relentless grind. She winked at him, a playful gesture that sent a jolt of electricity through his veins.

As the other miners dispersed with their choices of companions for the night, Amos approached Bertie, feeling a mix of excitement and trepidation. He hadn’t been with a woman in a very long time, and the thought of her soft skin against his rough hands was both thrilling and sobering. She took his hand with surprising gentleness, her grip firm and reassuring. “You’re the one who cleaned out Slim at the poker table,” she said, her voice a smoky drawl. “I heard you’re quite the hero.”