Trouble arises on the coast of a crumbling nation. Pirates, they say; dangerous scoundrels stealing resources and leveling entire towns in their wake. Every man they send to bring the surly captain to her knees never comes back. Bounty hunter Blake Sawyer, known for capturing prized outlaws and pushing others away, is given the job to take the crew down from the inside. It’s not the danger that scares her.
The journey paved before Blake will force her to face her greatest fears in life: herself, her past, and worst of all - falling in love.
Note: I was unsure which genre to pick. It falls into adventure, western, LGBTQ+ and a little bit of romance. I also like to call it a dystopian western, so we’ll see!
Always feel free to ask questions or check out my tag games! I talk a lot about my WIPs in those.
Excerpt (may or may not be in the actual work itself):
Stiffcross wasn’t much to spit at. Shoddy buildings patched up from the war looked more like children’s forts than businesses. Its residents didn’t look much better. Raggedy, in her opinion though she herself didn’t dress much better. The sun sun beat down on her shoulders, its fingers digging their way through her layers to reach her skin. She couldn’t imagine how the bastard tied up behind her felt. A potato sack over his head, he laid belly over the rear of her horse.
“Gimme some water, will ya?” Brock’s parched voice croaked in desperation. Blake reached back and whacked him in the back of the head.
“Shut up,” She grunted. “We’re almost there. You’re lucky I didn’t kill you.”
“Just wait ‘till my father-”
“‘Till your father does what? Rescue you?” Blake laughed to herself, a bead of sweat rolling down her flushed face. “Once Sheriff O’Brien has you, I don’t give two shits what your father has to say.” The man made a noise halfway between a whimper and a scoff before going silent. Sweet, sweet silence. The sheriff’s office only took a short few minutes to trot to. People stared, as they usually did when someone came in with a bounty. Who would it be this time? A murderer? A thief? Some found them more exciting than the hangings.
Blake hopped off Daisy, patting her neck affectionately. Offering a small ‘there there’ she tied her up to the post outside O’Brien’s office. Boots clicked on the weathered wooden porch and the tall, lanky sheriff welcomed her with a wrinkled smile and cheerful eye. The metal he shoved in the other socket seemed happy too.
“Who did ya bring me this time?” He asked, unfolding a rusting tin from his back pocket. A scraggly piece of tobacco pinched between his fingers before disappearing into his teeth.
“Davey Brock,” Blake replied, untying the intricate knots she used to keep the outlaw on Daisy. Stepping back, she let his body slide forward and hit the ground with a thud. He let out a yowl of pain, ignored by the woman who took her time to pick him up over her shoulder.
“Should have let me help you with that,” O’Brien tutted.
“Didn’t see you offering.”
Shrugging, the sheriff held the door open for her and followed her inside. The shade provided some relief, but scent of piss and old boots became almost nauseating in the summer heat. Blake dropped Davey into a hard wooden chair, his wrists burning red from resisting his bindings. Pulling the bag from his head, she leaned against the desk and removed her hat to fan herself with it. He was barely a man at first glance, more like a boy with his rounded cheeks and baby blue eyes. The scruff and bruises she gave him along the way helped with that at least. O’Brien shuffled through papers on his desk until he found the flyer with Brock’s face sketched in black ink.
“Let’s see… bank robbery…attempted murder-”
“It was a misunderstanding!” Davey insisted, lips chapped. The sheriff chuckled.
“You stole the man’s horse after shooting him.”
Blake smirked a bit, using the forearm of her jacket to smear the sweat around her face. The salt on her lips tasted of those god forsaken beans she ate on a near daily basis. For now, she focused less on the processing and more on what waited for her. Cash. She let her mind wander, studying the faces of the various criminals pinned to the sheriff’s board. A variety of crimes, prizes and danger. O’Brien proved to be one of the more generous lawmen. Some towns wouldn’t give her a job at all let alone big hits. Davey she considered a quick job - found him at a bar chatting up some local women a few counties over. Rough him up a bit and hogtie him then you’re good to go. She liked it that way ever since last year’s big job. Make enough to get by and keep herself out of harm’s way. A few fingers lingered over the uneven scar that marred her left cheek.
