In the beginning, I never planned on being a famous outlaw. You have to understand that. I saw a problem, and I saw a solution. It started with just intercepting tax collections and recovering what the greedy bastards took from grieving widows and orphans. They were just trying to make it work after being put in a bad position. The law doesn’t care about any of these people, so it’s up to us to give a shit. I couldn’t stand by and let people starve or be driven off their land.

  Eventually, the bounty got put on my head, and I attracted some followers. It’s kind of inevitable when you make a name for yourself. I resisted it at first, but with numbers came safety…to a point. It’s how I met and befriended Guilty Grant, Joey the Red, and my best friend, Small Samson. You know, before the bastard sold me out.

  We started out simple, just a few people sick and tired of Gandor’s greed and the way he let the railroad barons take whatever they want from us. We would hit a few places, take their valuables, and give them out to their victims. In the beginning we’d only kill if they didn’t surrender, or if they tried to pull a fast one.

  That was before we realized death was the only consequence for malfeasance that the bastards couldn’t buy their way out of. But in the beginning, I promise you, we went out of our way to avoid casualties. And the Empty Wedding was, at the time, our greatest achievement in taking what we could without innocent bystanders getting hurt.

  And it gave the good Sheriff his first real black eye, doubled my bounty, and tripled the size of my gang. All because a bunch of rich assholes thought they were untouchable, and all but dared me to attack.

  Let me lay the scene for you. Mary McDougal, daughter of railroad magnate Malcolm McDougal, was set to marry the oil baron Howard Rains’ son in a beautiful ceremony on the latter’s sprawling estate north of Koda Junction. Veritable American Royalty, with the most talked about business wedding in decades set to consolidate the power and resources of the western territory’s richest.

  And when asked if they were worried about the Scales Gang crashing their party, Howard Rains boasted he was so confident that nothing would happen under his watch that he’d pay for any lost property. And with that, he sealed his doom while also setting up the most obvious trap in existence.

  “There’s no way we’re falling for this, right?” Samson asked me the moment the news came to our hideout at the time. It was a saloon one town over, with a basement and hidden tunnels leading out, long since discovered and abandoned by now. There were only twenty of us then, enough to lead a raid or ambush the occasional train, but we hadn’t done anything huge. Yet.

  “How can we not?” I asked, tipping my hat up to get a better look at the newspaper with the announcement. “How big do you think this possible score could be? What do you think, Joey?”

  Joey mulled over his thoughts with some tobacco and shot a wad into the spittoon on the floor. “Ain’t no way we’re going to take that head-on. There’s gonna be dozens and dozens of gunmen there, waiting for us. If we do this, we have to be all sneaky-like. Like, extra double sneaky.”

  Samson growled. “Okay, that’s fine, but this is an obvious trap.”

  I laughed and slouched insolently. “Of course it is. But that Sheriff isn’t exactly the creative type, is he? Unless he’s got one of us on his side, feeding him information, I don’t see him thinking of anything we don’t. We could expect a lot of household guards and gunmen, ready to defend their masters, but think of who else will be at the wedding.”

  A chorus of silent, incredulous looks passed among the group, including Big Ear Bob and Mademoiselle Maria.

  I grinned and spread my arms wide. “A whole lot of rich idiots who will want to see what happens, and their support staff. We don’t attack the wedding, we fix it. And when we do, we walk out of there with everyone’s money, valuables, and self respect. The only question is: are we up to testing ourselves?”

  Silence again, save for a long, drawn out exhalation from Samson. “Depends, Jesse. Let’s say we do this and get away with it. What then? Mayor Gandor’ll be mighty upset with us. Might be enough to get the governor’s attention, and we’ll always be looking over our shoulders.”

  “Please,” I scoffed, “we’re already going to spend the rest of our lives waiting for the hangman. Why not go big?”

  “Sounds good to me,” said Joey, spitting once more. “But what’re we gonna do with it all? We steal that much, it’s gonna take more time to distribute it, and everyone’s gonna want a piece. It’s one thing to hand out some cash and loot to farmers and churches, it’s another to try to divvy out the biggest score of the century. How do we handle that?”

  Like usual, Samson chimed in with, “I can always watch over it, make sure it gets to the right hands.” He grinned, showing a couple missing teeth.

  Staring him down, I asked, “And what hands would those be? Whores? Faro players?”

  “Well, obviously,” Samson scoffed. “Not only do I get to have a bunch of fun, but I spread love and cheer to people in need, which just raises spirits all around. Everybody wins!”

  As a group we all rolled our eyes. I would give in, as fun and shows of generosity were honestly needed, but sometimes he worried me with his hunger for more. It was supposed to be everything we fought against, but I guess we all know how that story ended.

  “I’ve got ideas for all of that,” I said. “C’mon, this is me. Would I even bring it up if I didn’t think we could do it?” Everyone grumbled in acknowledgement.

  “So what will you do?” Mademoiselle Maria finally spoke up, watching me with interest.

  “Something I’ll need your help for. I’ll need a lot of extra help and manpower for this one.” I grinned as the plan formed itself in my head, bit by bit. I spoke almost as fast as I thought, and ten minutes later, the entire hideout was buzzing to make it work. The important thing is that we had to double our numbers to make it work, and even one weak link or blabbermouth could’ve ruined it.

  Instead, I earned the Sheriff’s eternal ire, and his promises to kill me. Before he does, how about we remind him exactly what I pulled off?

  The wedding was just over a month away, and we worked down to the wire getting everything in position. We had to find the right people who were sympathetic to us and would do their part, in exchange for both a bribe and a small cut of the loot.

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  It wasn’t hard to find people willing to turn on their masters. The problem with living a life of greed is that you underpay the people who can hurt you the most. You end up thinking that the people who live off the scraps you throw them ought to be grateful for your crumbs. We could’ve probably gotten away with paying people a lot less for their betrayals, just for the joy of humiliating the rich and powerful.

  I guess the difference is, I may be a thief, but I’m not actually greedy.

  The MacDougal estate was like a lot of rich asshole’s land: a miniature city sprawling over hundreds of acres, being over-worked by people paid too little for their effort. The actual house itself was gorgeous–a tall, proud monument to the old world, but with the hardiness and defiance of a frontier home. Vibrant flower beds surrounded the three story brick and wood manor, big enough to comfortably entertain hundreds, with a wing for a full support staff to be crammed together.

  The ceremony would be held outside, with a series of grand tents in the garden for the following feast. It was to be done at sunset, with the night a celebration of excess and their own superiority. Hundreds of gallons of wines and whiskeys, beer and brews of all kinds were imported and stored over the month to follow.

  It wasn’t easy, getting our people in, and finding the right targets who were the perfect mixture of vulnerable, disgruntled, and hungry for more in life. It was harder still to get in ourselves, as every guest was meticulously checked, their invitations and identities announced to the whole party. And of course, each new hire was subject to interrogation and borderline quarantine for the two weeks preceding the event.

  And even once we were inside, that didn’t do anything to help with the dozens of armed men who patrolled the property, and would be ready to gun down any thieves they found. They were obstacles both on our way in, and on our way out, as we’d have to transport tens of thousands of dollars worth of loot several miles along open plains.

  All of this is to say, the odds were against us. If I’m to be sent off to hell tomorrow, then I’ll go to the devil with a heart full of pride over this heist.

  The day of the wedding was more stressful than you can imagine. Me, Joey, and Guilty Grant had been there for two weeks, cooking up a storm and confirming what our spies told us. You’d think I’d be too visible or known to hide, right? Well, without my favorite hat and with my hair pulled up, no one really knew what I looked like. I was as good as invisible, so long as I kept my mouth shut.

  It was harder than I like to admit.

  “Everything needs to be perfect,” said the sneering butler. “If it’s not, then you can damn well expect to walk away empty handed. Do you all understand me?”

  It wasn’t the first time he’d said it to us. Most people grunted their acknowledgements and kept right on cutting vegetables or seasoning that night’s stew. That’s where I was, making sure the dish was good enough to knock them all out.

  “You mean you’re going to steal our wages from us if you get mad?” I asked.

  Guilty Grant coughed loudly, but the butler’s eyes narrowed at me. “In a heartbeat. Do not test me, girl.”

  I bowed my head with a smile I hoped looked pleading and not amused. Even the servants of the rich saw themselves as higher than the rest of us peasants. Win or lose, I resolved to ruin his night if I could.

  Once he was gone, Grant laid into me. “The hell do you think you’re doing?” he demanded in a forceful whisper. “You really want to get extra attention on us during the big day? C’mon Jesse.”

  “No,” I admitted. “You think this is enough, or should I dump in more?”

  Grant looked at the half empty bag of white powder. “Sweet Jesus! Yes, that’s enough. We don’t want to kill them, do we?” His eyes darted around, but the only nearby cooks were our people.

  “Well…” I started. His eyes nearly bugged out of his head, and his face turned a brilliant shade of red. “No, of course not,” I said before he could launch into another lecture. In a gang like ours, men like Grant were necessary. Good men, who stop people like me from going too far.

  “Good,” he said, shoulders slumping in relief. “Look, me and Joey have this under control. Why don’t you go for a walk?”

  “Don’t trust me not to poison the bastards?” I asked with a grin. “That’s reasonable. I’ll go scout things out, and check on the others.”

  You would think that it would be harder to move around without suspicion on the day of the wedding, but the estate resembled a frenzied anthill. No one noticed one worker ant wasn’t where she was supposed to be. I admit to having a really good, relaxed time for the next hour or so. Much of the manor was off limits, so I focused on the main room, and strolled along the grounds wearing my cook’s uniform and hat.

  I can’t tell you the perverse joy I felt in just wandering around invisibly, right under their noses. Howard Rains stood only a dozen feet away, barking like a territorial dog at anyone that came close.

  “Pick up the pace! What the hell am I paying you for? Christ almighty, if Aldous could see how lazy our workers were, we’d be a laughingstock!” He grabbed the nearest working man by the front of his coat and shook him.

  The laborer stammered out an apology, and was only released three seconds later with a long suffering sigh from the millionaire. He covered a lined, weathered face with a hairy hand.

  “There’s just no finding good help these days.” My self control ran off with my heart, leaving me thrilled and cursing my own stupidity for drawing attention during a rich man’s temper tantrum. That sense of danger and excitement doubled when he whirled on me.

  “You think you’re being funny?” he demanded, stalking towards me. His eyes held no recognition for me, and it emboldened me.

  “Yes sir,” I said. “Sorry sir. If it makes you feel any better, things are going really well in the kitchen! Chef Slovik was the happiest I’d ever seen him, and we think your guests will be simply out of their minds with the result.”

  One of the richest men in Koda Junction stared at me, slack-jawed and disbelieving. I don’t think anyone talked to him like that, not even his loved ones. His eyes swept over me once more, full of confusion and contempt in equal measure. “Well, good. Why the hell aren’t you working?”

  “We’re ahead of schedule and most of us were sent out with one more task and then a break as Chef perfects the stew and the drinks, sir. I couldn’t resist stealing a chance to take a look around. Your home is beautiful, and I am honored to be able to contribute to an unforgettable night.”

  His eyes narrowed, and I knew then I was pushing it too far. His lips curled back in a sneer, but before he could say anything, his eyes slid over my shoulder and widened. “Sheriff Rickens,” he greeted, turning my blood to ice.

  I turned around to face Rickens himself outside the reception area. “Mr. Rains,” the Sheriff replied, ignoring me entirely. His mustache and shoes had been waxed, and he wore a fancy vest that looked out of place on the leathery bastard. “I’ve done as you’ve asked and my boys are all around the edges of the wedding. If they approach, we’ll drive them off. And if they slip by us somehow, we’ll collapse in to protect the wedding guests.”

  Howard took a deep breath and nodded, clearly mollified. “What do you think the odds of the Scales Gang trying something?”

  My heart skipped a beat. I took a step backwards slowly, just trying to avoid catching their notice again, but too interested in the answer to just slip off.

  “Frankly Mr. Rains, if I was them, I’d use this as a chance to hit up some of the guests’ homes, or maybe the bank in town. My men are stretched thin covering as much as we can, but we know that they can’t be everywhere at once. Things will go so smoothly, your wedding will be the only thing people talk about for months.”

  I had to leave then, or I was going to die of laughter and give up the game. I turned around and strolled off as casually as possible. My heart jumped up into my throat when the Sheriff called out, “Hey, you!” I turned around, schooling my face into one of polite curiosity rather than pants-shitting fear.

  Sheriff Rickens pointed at me, eyes narrowed. “Tell the chef to keep any shellfish away from table eight. You understand?”

  “Y-yes, I understand sir,” I replied, bowing respectfully as my insides tap danced. “No shellfish near table eight.”

  “Good girl,” he said before turning back to Howard. I ran back to the kitchen to do the exact opposite, and make sure his portion of stew would have bits of crab and lobster in it. Worst case scenario, it pissed him off. Best case? No telling, but it would probably be funny.

  That conversation told me a few things. Mostly, it told me that even if we failed at the wedding, we were still going to win big.