Yippie ki yay, motherf--
"Evenin', cowboy!" the saloon girl chirped. She was entirely too perky for a soiled dove, but danged if that sunny spirit of hers hadn't made her awfully popular with the men of Phoenix. The Dakotas were a lonely place, just recently opened to settlement, and women were in real short supply.
That was where Madam Doris Purkiss and the Tumbleweeds came in. They'd set up shop in the Sweetwater Saloon some four months ago and had been making a killing ever since. Not one of 'em was as good as the little lady currently sidling up to Mad Dog MacDougal, though.
Behind the bar, Ted kept an eye on proceedings. If any trouble started (as trouble was wont to do, between drunk cowboys, too few women, and old Lucky Malfoy's gang of Death Eaters riding the hills) he'd have to holler for Al Moody to start tossing people out. Losing an eye at Appomattox might've knocked him out of being a US Marshal, but it sure as hell hadn't slowed him down as a bouncer.
"Well hey there, pretty lady," MacDougal drawled out, his hand already slipping up her calf and under her skirt. "What's your name?"
"Modesty," she said with a grin.
He laughed, just like they always did when she told them. The irony was great enough that it couldn't be lost, even on drunks.
"Well, Miss Modesty...how 'bout you tell me what you're drinkin'?"