---There comes a time when we all gotta pay for our sins.---
The languid summer air weighed heavily upon the town, like a thick blanket. The rustling of cartwheels and shouts of townsfolk going on about their business echoed through the open windows as Constance made her way down the wooden stairs, casting her gaze at the still quiet barroom. The slow clack of her boots seemed to draw the attention of the young man leaning into the open piano, as he glared up and grinned. "Good Morning, Madame!", his head chirped out, before diving right back into the ribs of the instrument.
"Good Morning to you too, sweetheart.", the woman replied, finally making her way down towards the bar, and, cuffing her bright blue bell dress, sat on a chair next to a wiry, almost gaunt man with dark brown skin. He was dressed in a loose white shirt, round spectacles on his nose. The bartender placed a steaming cup in front of her. "Doctor Harrison, I trust you're settling in well? Is the building to your liking?", the madam asked, raising her cup.
Clasping his hands together, the doctor nodded enthusiastically. "It's ideal, Madame Fleming. The cots and linens will be arriving tomorrow from Salt Lake City, and I've received word that the tools and medicines are coming in by train to Denver by the end of the month."
Taking a sip of her tea, Constance smiled, turning to the man tending the bar, just as the doors slammed open by a deeply freckled girl seemingly in a rush, dressed in just a nightgown. "Ma'am!", she shouted in a shaking voice. "There's over a dozen men on horseback comin' over the ridge!"
Constance flicked an unruly lock to her side, then glanced over at the girl. "Well in that case, wake everyone who doesn't have a day off, and get yourself done, Mary. Sugar!", she glanced at the piano boy, "Better finish up quick." Turning towards the doctor, she sent a charming smile. "I do hope to see you later, Doctor. If you excuse me.", she stood up from the table, her cant carrying her upstairs.
The five were sitting around the table in the droll afternoon. The government man in his grey chops, the foreman with his yellowed teeth and missing arm, the doctor, constantly cleaning his spectacles, and the priest with his constantly red nose. They'd been talking, mulling and arguing for hours, and she slipped out of the conversation to glance over Thomson Springs. The passing tradesmen showing their wares, the miners lulling out for the trek to the pit.
The conversation appeared to be slowing in the background of Constance's mind, as she moved her gaze towards the trio of well-dressed merchants walking into the saloon. She smiled, only to once again be pulled into the conversation. "...opinion.", she heard from the government man, and noticed that the four men were staring at her with a look all-too-unfamiliar. The government man pushed a document at her. "What do you reckon, Ma'am?", he quizzed.
The text on the document made her raise an eyebrow, and as she lift her gaze once more at the expectant looks around the table, she realise what they meant.
Respect.
