Utah, February 22nd 1857
It was hard to imagine that the West was ever sunny. When the nights rolled in and the sun began to set it became freezing cold rather then the boiling hot temperature that the morning brought. It felt as if there had never been a single drop of heat from the sun across the entire planet.
"It's 33 miles to Springville." Dot muttered as she started to begin unrolling her tattered sleeping bag upon the dusty ground. It wasn't her own... in fact it was Irwin's she was using. Which was evidenced by the state of disrepair it was currently in, however Dot was the one that needed the bag most... and Irwin didn't have a spare. He didn't often get guests. "We should leave at first light if we wanna arrive by tomorrow evening."
Irwin Hampton was busy with a task of his own, he was crouched in the center of the camp area they'd created, attempting to get a fire started using a pack of matches he'd looted off one of the dead bandits back in Bleach. Somewhere over his shoulder was Unknown, tied to a small wooden spike that Irwin had stuck in the ground to keep the creature pinned.
"We'll be leavin' a lot sooner then that." Irwin said a second or two before red hot flame shot up from his match and set the wooden logs on fire. He grinned to himself before standing up and plucking his hat up fro his head revealing a wave of brown, dirty and wiry hair. "You get a few hours sleep." He instructed. "Then we'll set off." He pulled out a can of beans from his coat's pocket and held them over the fire allowing them to slowly heat up.
"What about you?" Dot yawned while stretching. She fell down onto her sleeping bag and let out yet another small yawn. "Or are you tellin' me thet you don't sleep?"
Irwin took a spoonful of beans and swallowed them. They weren't very well cooked however that didn't really matter, he simply wanted a small amount of warmth in his food. Didn't matter how much... he'd eaten colder before. He stared at the girl before taking another spoonful.
"Ah don't sleep." He told her before gulping down his makeshift meal. Dot opened her mouth to speak however before she could continue her endlessly pointless questions Irwin stopped her. "If you don't stop speakin' ah'm gonna knock you out an' get some rest that way."
Dot nodded before lying down on her back, resting her head on the soft cotton and closing her eyes tight shut.
"G'night Irwin." She said.
"Shut up." He answered.
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1855 December 12th, Springville, Utah
"Suzie." A loud voice called from the darkness. "Get up."
Susan Jackson opened her eyes slowly to see a dark shape directly before her. For a second she couldn't remember where she was... or even who she was. Then she noticed the items in her room, the shoddy wardrobe filled with a variety of dresses, the shard of glass that acted as her mirror... and the random pieces of junk she'd collected over the past 8 years of her life. Unfortunately she remembered every last detail of her life.
Her vision cleared and she made out the familiar face of her father. Owen Jackson was crouched directly before his daughter, the man's wrinkled and weathered features weren't a pleasant sight to behold first thing in the morning... however that was what was most beautiful about him. He looked perfect for the part he was going to be playing. With his thick blonde mustache directly above his fat lips and large tanned hat tilted above his forehead he was the spitting image of a US Marshal or at the very least a Sheriff... something that he was going to have to get exactly right for the job they had coming up.
"You ready darlin'?" He asked. Susan nodded before climbing out of bed and pulling on a pair of black boots lying on the ground.
"Would you care saying that again kind sir?" She responded in the most upper class British accent she could muster.
"AHEM! You ready darlin'?" He repeated with a small grin.
"That's much better." She replied before looking at herself in the mirror. She couldn't help but smile at her reflection, dressed head to toe in a bright pink dress with a large hat and an even larger skirt around her waist. Susan and her father were poor... and the dress had cost most of what they had.
"The question is..." Susan said. "...are YOU ready?"
Owen adjusted his hat, the pair quickly double checked their disguises.
"Ready as ah'll ever be." He said, once again performing his fake Western accent to the utmost of his acting skills. The two nodded before stepping out of their small makeshift house into the blazing sunlight that existed outside. Owen patted his daughter silently on the shoulder before walking off quietly down the street, most of the people he walked past ignored him. Susan herself watched him walk away before stepping into position on the edge of the dirt road right by the house.
She wasn't a fan of dresses... she liked the way they looked however for some reason she always felt ridiculous on the rare occasions when she gained the chance to wear one. She stood at her position for several minutes before hearing the sounds of her target approaching. The sound of galloping and a large carriage shaking filled her ears and she looked to her right just to ensure that the carriage was in fact the intended target. On the front of the approaching carriage was the name of the business.
Quimby and Sons.
Susan took a deep breath before throwing herself directly into the middle of the road, she hugged the ground and waited as the gigantic pitch black carriage rushed towards her at an endless speed.
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1857, 23rd February
Irwin Hampton was used to guns. He'd grown up around the things almost all his life, when he'd been a boy his father had used to pistol whip him, Irwin didn't really have any idea why. He had the marks and scars to remind him of his childhood memories... they weren't pleasant.
KLICK!
These painful memories meant that Irwin Hampton was able to understand the sounds of a gun clicking right by his neck. He felt the cold touch of the gun's barrel against the back of his skull and dropped his own weapon to the ground.
"Stand up."
Irwin stood up... and slowly he turned around.
"Hi there." The gun's wielder said before whipping Irwin directly across the face with his pistol. Irwin felt pain shoot across the right side of his skull and fell to the ground sending a small cloud of dust riding above him. Irwin heard the sound of the gun clicking again and looked up to see the gun's wielder glaring down at him.
"Welcome to Utah." He said.
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