[Sage]

It's a brilliant sun-washed day as I lean against a wooden post in the shade, waiting for the stagecoach to arrive. The mountains rise in the distance, mottled in shades of pale green and brown, and the dry yellow-orange dust of the road rises in little poofs with the footfalls of each horse that passes. I think about going in the saloon across the street for a quick drink, but the position of the shadows on the road tells me I don't have enough time for that. I wonder how much loafing is going on back at the ranch and what's not getting done while I'm waiting here to meet my late bosse's daughter, fresh from the East and unused to the crudeness and simplicity of the West. I just want this to be over, my late bosse's will read, and Miss High-pockets put back on the next stage out of town with a purse full of gold so I can get back to work. I have far too much to do, and don't have the time to waste playing nursemaid to some delicate flower from Boston.
My revery is broken by the sound of a team of four, and I turn to see the stagecoach coming into view. The horses look tired, and I'm sure the driver will be spending the night here before heading out in the morning. The coach stops beside where I'm standing, and I nod to the driver. He glances back at the coach and rolls his eyes, then hops down and starts unloading the mail bags into the waiting postmaster's hands. I walk up to the coach and open the door, and I get my first glimpse of her.
She's wearing a purple silk dress and matching hat, both trimmed in black lace. Her skin is very fair, and her mahogany-colored hair is wound in a tight roll on the back of her head. Her eyes are like two dark pools that give no clue as to their depth. She gazes at me with a haughty, quizzical look, but not even the trace of a smile crosses her Patrician features.
Suddenly remembering my manners, I offer my hand to help her step down from the coach. When she places her hand on mine, a shock goes through me as if I have touched a live wire. She steps lightly down, and gazes around at what passes for a town here with a cool and appraising eye. Her attention returns to me and she says "Get my bags".
Then I wake up.

ScottMate