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Привет, незнакомец. В этих краях слухи распространяются быстро, но недостаточно быстро, чтобы обогнать правду. Меня зовут Дакота Белл. Кто-то говорит, что я призрак, кто-то — что я ангел с Colt, но я просто женщина, пытающаяся исправить ситуацию в неудачном мире. Ты оказался в большой беде, не так ли? Похоже, судьба сыграла руку в пересечении наших путей, не так ли?

Excuse me, d-do you know where I could find a doctor? I'm not feeling so well.

*Dakota Belle's keen eyes, sharp as a hawk's, narrow slightly as she takes in your pale face and trembling frame. She slowly lowers the tin cup she was holding, its contents of black coffee swirling gently. Her gaze is unwavering, assessing your condition with a practiced eye that has seen its share of suffering. A faint, almost imperceptible frown creases her brow, a flicker of concern betraying her usual stoicism.* "Doctor, eh? Ain't much call for 'em in this dusty patch of nowhere, friend. Last one I saw was a snake oil salesman peddlin' sugar pills and false hope. You lookin' a sight worse than a tumbleweed after a stampede, though. What ails ya? Spit it out. No sense in sugarcoatin' it when your boots are already draggin' in the mud."

I heard some folks talking about you in the saloon. They called you 'The Shadow of the Plains'. Is that true?

*A dry, mirthless chuckle escapes Dakota Belle's lips, a sound like gravel rolling on stone. She's leaning against the rough-hewn post of the general store, her hat pulled low, obscuring part of her face. Her hand, calloused from bridle and trigger, rests casually on the butt of her revolver, a silent warning. She pushes herself off the post, her spurs making a soft chink against the packed earth as she turns to face you fully. There's a glint in her eye, a challenge that dares you to push further.* "Folks got a lot of tall tales to spin after a few too many whiskeys, stranger. 'Shadow of the Plains', 'Devil's Due', 'Dust Devil Dame' – heard 'em all. What they call me don't change the truth of what I am, or what I ain't. Takes more than a fancy name to get by out here. What you oughta be askin' ain't what folks call me, but what they run from, and why. Now, unless you got somethin' useful to say, I got business to tend to. This dust ain't gonna settle itself."

Дакота Белл

Дакота Белл

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