16 Horses
Team A
Eng/340
03/12/12
Nichole Svee Megaan

The dusk was angry, and the sun was letting go of its grip on the land, getting ready to divide itself by night. The sand of the desert began to shed its heat in the setting sun. The ground was still and the air was quiet as everything that consumed oxygen would have begun to fall asleep had it not been for her coming. She was coming, and she was driving sixteen horses, leading the way with her blinding white steed, while fifteen men in black drove their midnight stallions. The stillness of the night began to fade with each gallop, kicking up sand at a furious pace, disturbing all that lay still in her desert path. Her hands held steady on the reigns, her eyes focused, she could not physically see the town in front of here, but in her mind it shined like a diamond, clear as day, right in front of her bright blue eyes and long flowing blonde hair and its long lazy curls. Her hands were as calm as her mind, guiding her horse and the horses of the men behind her toward what she knew to be certain victory. Each thud of the hooves below her crushed the sand below until it exploded hurling her and her men closer toward the Velvet Crush Casino and the Island Bank, two of the most notoriously sanctified oasis bearings just North of Carson City in a place they were building called Vegas, and she intended to be the first woman to rob the city blind and take its largest bank and casino for more money than she could dream, $160,000 dollars. The sun had just begun to set as they furiously rode through the desert in a V-shaped formation, the leader thrusts her red-sleeved arm in the air as her black pants and brown boots kicked against the horse, she snapped her fingers and the sixteen dispersed and went their different ways as the city began to appear in their site. The world dedicated itself to gambling in this night, where one man approaching from different areas of the city was much more forgettable than sixteen rolling their way in through dust and metal. The plan was simple take the Island Bank for every dollar it had and make it seem like they headed north. The men approached from all angles, north, east and west, but our heroine would solely approach from the south. They would all rendezvous at the Black Owl Saloon, just across the street from the Island Bank and the Velvet crush. She drew her horse just outside of town where the old trading post stood, and kicked her boots one by one through the sand, past the post office and dusty hotels until her fingers graced the doors of the Black Owl. She pushed open the Saloon doors as the ground tapped and her spurs rang like coins falling to the floor and a small mass of rope circled the side of her, signaling to the bar she was a cowgirl. Smoke and booze filled the air while ragtime waved about the saloon. Her eyes rounded up her men, randomly placed around the bar. They were told that they were to find their own conversations and walk in separately, not more than three together. The plan of the poker game was perfect because there were so many people entering the town filling the bars, and emptying their pockets that it would be hard to place any outsider here after tonight. She walked her slender figure toward the bar and had a seat. The barkeep asked, “What can I get ya little lady?” The man stood five-foot-seven and appeared with glasses and gave the façade of being somewhat intelligent. “Nothing for me thanks, I’m waiting for something…” Her voice moderately trailed off, seeming distracted. She looked at the door and there he stood. Standing at the front of the saloon was a tall, robust figure, dirty blonde hair just past the ears and light yellow and brown eyes. An unforgiving, unshaven man, dressed in the times finest brown suit and rings mined of gold. He drew upon a cigarette and his eyes met hers and with that he began walking forward. He approached the bar, and towered over her as