Being interested in neither a game of chance nor the gentle ministrations of the soiled doves that flitted so enticingly around Taylor's Saloon, Vin Tanner stepped up to the bar and tossed down his coin for a mug of warm yet thirst quenching beer. Receiving said libation he tugged on the brim of his hat and, in a voice loud enough to be heard over the din of the crowded smoke filled room, said, "I'll be needin' a room for the night."

"Plenty of rooms right here…with the bed warmer of your choice," the barkeep said and nodded toward the second floor where doors opened and closed like clockwork as drunken cowhands, too long on the trail and bent on spending every last cent doled out by the trail bosses, took their pleasure with the eager and willing whores.

Leaning over the bar closer to the bartender's ear, Vin added, "I need to sleep more'n fifteen minutes. Been on the trail four days and I'm headin' back out at first light."

"In a hurry to get home?"

Thinking momentarily the tracker rubbed a hand across his smooth shaven chin, smiled and nodded, "Yeah, home."

When had the small town south of nowhere become home to him? When had the six other men hired to protect Four Corners, men of such diverse backgrounds and decidedly differing temperaments, come to feel as brothers to him?

The barkeep ran a tattered rag across the damp bar top and told him, "Roomin' house just down Main Street next to the General Store. Real nice, real clean."

Vin opened his mouth to speak again just as a particularly drunken cowboy was none too gently escorted to the landing and pushed down the flight of stairs by a very large and very angry whore. The cowboy's bare-assed tumble caused the room to explode into raucous laughter and catcalls drowning out Vin's thanks so he simply nodded his appreciation for the information. As he hoisted his brew and took a long, heady drink, the sensation of being watched suddenly came upon him yet again. Dismissing the feeling as quickly as it had come Vin instead concentrated on how good the warm beer felt sliding down his dust parched throat and thought about his eminent departure come morning.

Having set out four days prior to deliver some sort of official papers to a lawyer in the bustling town of Prairie Junction for the Judge, the trip had, for the most part, been uneventful. Vin had enjoyed the peace and solitude and the cleansing of his lungs, his mind and his soul in the wide-open spaces of the prairie with only the niggling feeling of being watched coming upon him now and again to mar the trip. His papers delivered, he would remain in town only long enough to have a decent meal and a good night's sleep.

Pushing off from the bar, mug in hand, he made his way to a small table on the edge of the raucous goings-on content to just sit back and watch the fun. With his back safely to the wall, Vin looked over the rim of his glass at the gamblers intently studying their cards. His gaze then drifted to the many drovers still smelling of cattle, sweat and now whiskey as they laughingly pulled the scantily clad whores onto waiting laps amid squeals and laughter, the continuous tinkling of the new player piano recently brought all the way from St. Louis adding to the merriment. A smile played on Vin's lips and he began to relax when one particular lady of the evening caught his eye.

She looked to have purpose as she walked through the smoke hazed room neatly rebuffing all comers. Slapping away grabbing hands and pushing eager young cowboys back down into their seats, she made her way unerringly toward the poker tables. Flipping a tendril of long blonde hair over one shoulder she leaned over, full breasts threatening to spill from her tightly laced corset, and whispered into a long haired gambler's ear while Vin watched appreciatively sipping what was left of his beer.

The whore was tall, Vin noticed, maybe only a couple of inches shorter than himself, with thick, cascading blonde hair and ice blue eyes rimmed heavily in black. Her unsmiling lips were full and painted red, the same color as the delicate ribbons that threaded through the yoke of her camisole and around the lace at the bottom of her bloomers. As she bent low to speak to the blond haired gambler again, Vin caught the look of disgust on her face when the cardsharp ran a finger across the globe of one full breast familiarly. Straightening up, the whore looked toward the back of the room and her eyes suddenly locked with his and Vin smiled in spite of himself. This seemed to pique her interest and she gave him a radiant smile in return and cocked an eyebrow questioningly. Vin, still set on a good night's sleep and an early start, simply shook his head and declined the obvious offer whereupon the woman simply winked and headed back the way she'd come.

His mug now empty, the tracker continued to sit as fatigue began to settle in. The barroom became extremely warm as more cowhands found their way into the town's best and only whorehouse and Vin stood up to remove his buckskin jacket, his muscles rippling under the clean, blue cambric shirt he had donned after his bath. He turned to drape the garment over the back of his seat and, when he turned back, a red headed whore stood before him, her tongue flicking over her rouged lips, invitation brazen in her eyes. Before she could speak, there came a sharp rebuke.

"Go on and spread your disease elsewhere!" The blonde whore hadn't let Vin's rebuff discourage her in the least and she had come to his table with a beer in her hand and a harsh glare for the redhead, who quickly moved on to the next table, contempt in her dull green eyes.

The scrawny blonde bitch was new to Taylor's but had already forged a reputation with a knife and, although she had only sliced off a shock of another working girl's hair, Red was taking no chances. None of them had seen a thing until the hell bitch had tossed a handful of dark hair back to the nasty brunette who had tried to steal away her John. Besides, she had been feeling poorly of late and if word did get around she'd be forced to leave and find a new town where her suspect well-being wouldn't be an issue.

Watching the redhead sidle away, the blonde placed the beer on the table and sat, not in Vin's lap but across the table from him, crossing incredibly long, shapely legs sheathed in slightly tattered, white, cotton stockings as she did. The rest of her ensemble consisted of the short white bloomers and the white, red-ribboned camisole cinched in by a stiff, cream-colored, whale boned corset from which her voluptuous breasts burgeoned. She wore no boots and the soles of the stockings were stained almost black as she trod the filthy, rough-hewn boards of the bawdy house.

"You look like you could use this, cowboy," she said and pushed the warm beer nearer to him.

What was the harm in another beer and a little company, he thought, and smiled as he gently corrected her. "Guess I could at that - but I ain't a cowboy."

Assessing him boldly with her bright blue eyes, the whore slowly nodded her head. "No, I guess you're not. I can see you've bathed at least once in the last month."

Vin chuckled softly, his smile infectious as he reached for the proffered mug of beer and assured her, "Not more 'en two hours ago."

The whore smiled in return revealing straight, white teeth between her full lips. "And I, for one, appreciate it," she told him and leaned forward in her chair placing her elbows on the table.

"Thanks for rousting that one for me," Vin said jerking his head toward the redhead who, though plying her trade with a filthy drover at the next table, still looked at him as if he were the Blue Plate Special on the menu of the finest restaurant in town.

"Some of Johnny's girl can be ah,... hazardous to your health," the blonde told him with a deep and sultry laugh.

Vin Tanner, surprised that she had taken an interest in him at all, was nonetheless thankful for her intervention and decided to put aside all thoughts of food and fatigue and settled back in his chair content to spend a little quality time with a beautiful woman.