The large enamel basin clattered to the ground, the thirsty earth eagerly sucking up the pink tinged water. Drummond swore as he gripped the table and forced himself to look at his reflection. A large curved needle stuck out of his cheek a thick sinewy thread trailing off the end. Somehow he’d been able to force himself through the first stitch but his work had been shoddy and the ragged wound was already beginning to pull apart. 

“That fucking bastard,” he swore again pounding his fist onto the table, the sundries not already knocked to the ground shaking at the vibration.“I hope those whores kill you and save me the trouble,” He mumbled to himself. The image of Adrian's death was satisfying and brought a smile to his face which pulled at the ragged stitch.

He cried out once more and shot a look to the flap of the tent. His anger grew when no one came to assist him. Not that there were many left to do so. Before the unfortunate business with the duke's daughter he had about sixty or so men who would join him on his travels and well over a dozen women to warm his bed. Some of the men he paid while others were simply eager to follow in the hopes of learning his secret regarding women. It was a good racket, at least while it lasted. Unfortunately those good times were behind them now and the men at his call numbered only a meager dozen. Those that remained were mostly hardened criminals. Men wanted long before the duke's bounty. He’d lost nearly half of his original band through desertion after it was posted. Then as the money began to run dry most of the women were disposed of in an attempt to ease the burden. 

What remained of his band was then nearly wiped in a hail of booming gunfire a few weeks before. Even Loise’s soldiers, each of whom was as good as three regular men, had taken several casualisties during the assault. Their deaths had been essential for their escape and Drummond mourned the loss of the loss of their expertise more than their lives.

From somewhere in the camp a woman cried out in a long wail. Her voice cut off with a gagging sound that was followed by the shouts and laughter of what few men remained. 

When Drummond returned he had tossed his remaining accomplice to the ground at their feet. “Don’t worry about breaking this one,” he had said as he left the woman at their mercy. He had been in a rage since fleeing the brothel and being unable to act against the one who harmed him he turned his cruelty upon the girl who had failed him. 

He listened to the muffled cries and sobs for a bit before steeling himself to pull the needle from his face. He did so with a hard jerk and a stream of curses. Outside the sound of horses could be heard and a few moments later the flaps of the tent were pushed aside to make way for the tall statuesque woman. The armor she wore shined bright and gold as did her long hair which hung near her shoulders in a tight braid. The helmet under her arm with its scratches and dents had done its job to protect her alabaster sculpted features though it was clear it had seen better days despite the fresh shine it bore. 

“What have you gone and done to yourself this time Drummond?” she asked.

“You’re never to leave my fucking side again.” Drummond said, ignoring her question. 

“You’re the one who sent me to negotiate, remember?” Her tone was even but defiant.Setting her helmet aside she drew closer to examine the man's wound. 

“I don’t give a shit!” Drummond shouted petulantly. “Look at what happened because you weren’t there!”

“You made quite a mess of it,” Laoise said, seemingly unbothered by Drummond's tantrum. “Why didn’t you wait for me?” 

“I didn’t want it to scar.” He answered wincing as she cut the mangled stitch and pulled it free. 

“Well that’s all but guaranteed now,” she said, holding the needle over the lamp's flame to sterilize it before setting to work.

Drummond grit his teeth against the pain though the woman's experienced hands minimized the discomfort. 

“How did the meeting go?” He asked.

“Carvel has agreed to smuggle us across the plains sea.” Laoise answered, already tying off the stitch and starting another. “However he’s demanded full payment by the end of the week.”

This wasn’t good news and Drummond ground his teeth anxiously. “You were supposed to buy us some time to collect the rest,” he said.

“I’m aware of that, but he wouldn’t have it. He says he doesn’t want you anywhere near his dock, not until you can pay,” she explained. “Judging by your face I assume you weren’t able to secure the rest?”

“What a smart one you are,” Drummond said before cursing as the woman drove the needle in with a bit less care.

“So what happened? Did the whores do this to you?” She asked. 

“No, I had another run in with him.”

“Him?”

“That bastard from a few weeks back, the one who nearly wiped us out.”

Laoise's  expression changed in an instant, becoming hard and cold . “He’s here?” She asked, voice dropping.

“He got the drop on me at the brothel, cracked me across the face and nearly blew my head off.”

“How did you escape?” She asked eying the wound more closely now.

“Equal parts luck and quick thinking. Had to burn one of their barmaids and damn near torch the place to get out. Ended up losing Scarlet when all was said and done.”

“Is she dead?” 

“Not sure, he put one through her leg. She was still alive when I left but whether she’s still that way I don't know.” Drummond's tone was dismissive, the woman was a fine earner and not half bad in bed but at the end of the day she was expendable.

Laoise was silent for a moment before asking the most pressing question. “And what about the bounty hunter? Is he alive?” She wished for both answers in equal measure. Eager to be free of his lingering shadow but hoping she might strike him down herself. 

“Don’t know that either. The bouncer knocked him cold. The whores were pretty cross with him for starting trouble. I figure it's 50/50 whether they kill him or not. Even if they don’t I doubt they’d have let him go just yet. Either way he’s not an issue at  the moment.”

Laoise seemed less convinced, she wondered how Drummond could be so blase. He had seen the same things she did, the way the man cut through their camp, his volleys seeming neverending. She remembered the way the gray smoke hung around him like a storm cloud, the bursts of his weapons flashing like lightning within. 

“I’m surprised he was taken so easily,” she said, finishing the last stitch and cutting off the excess. 

Drummond shrugged as he checked the woman's work. “He wasn’t like before. More restrained, kind of sloppy. Didn’t seem to have much of a plan.”

“Are you sure it was the same man?” Laoise asked. “ We never saw his face. I find it hard to believe he’d let himself get caught by a group of whores and tavern wenches.”

“It was him alright,” Drummond assured.

The woman had learned it was best not to trust Drummond's word on its face. The man was both a con artist and shallow thinker but the certainty in his voice was convincing. 

“Well even if he’s no longer a problem we’re still empty handed and unable to pay Carvel,” She said. 

“Never said I was empty handed,” Drummond corrected. Turning on his stool he reached over to pull back the curtain that hung around the cot where he slept. There laid Ressa unconscious and curled into a small ball. Beads of sweat dotted her tan skin and while she was disheveled from the fight and rough ride her beauty had not suffered for it.Loaise hated her immediately. 

“How much did you hit her with?” She asked, seeing  Ressa shudder in a familiar way. 

“More than usual, she took it better than most. I was afraid I was going to burn her,”  Drummond said.

‘You should have,’ the woman thought to herself as she felt a growing urge to bring her fist down onto the girl's face until it had lost all its beauty. “What if they come looking for her?” She asked. Without money or supplies they were stuck for the time being and while the smaller group made it easier to hide their camp they weren’t prepared for any sort of substantial fight. 

“That’s a good point,” Drummond said, letting the curtain fall back into place. “How about we save them the hunt? Gather your pride and pay the place a visit,  this time why don’t ‘negotiate’ like the good ole days.” 

The golden woman nodded collected her helm and quickly left the tent the corners of her mouth turning up into a cruel smile.