It continued to amazed her, the difference an ocean can make. She'd heard stories, of course, but experiencing United States culture firsthand was something else entirely. She was already noticing odd looks because of her European dress style, she usually did; it was obviously a little more revealing than what they wore here, but the biggest difference she always noticed was the noise. She loved it. England was, for the most part, quiet and tranquil, and boring. Here there were always noises of wagons going by, train whistles, stampedes, cowboys on horses, and, most frequently, gunshots.

She started as she heard one closeby. Looking around for the source of the noise, she saw nothing but a group of bewildered looking men rush out of a store down the street and look around. She saw no sign of the person who had actually fired the gun. Once satisfied that she was in no real danger, she continued looking straight ahead, waiting for the coach.

Out of the corner of her eye, she barely noticed the young man running at her. He was looking over his shoulder, so he didn't see her either until they collided. They fell right into and then over a short fence around a cow pen. The girl landed on her back, hitting her head on the water trough and falling unconscious. The young man who had pushed her fought for balance before toppling right onto her. He looked up and found himself face to...well, not quite face to face with the prettiest girl he'd ever seen.

But he had no time to gawk. He heard a voice say "Howdy" and he looked up to find the barrel of a shotgun looking back at him. The owner of the voice(and the gun) was sitting next to an older gentleman on the seat of a small cart. The boy in the pen scrambled to his knees and pointed his own pistol at the blond man holding the shotgun.

"Go on lad, get in," the older man invited, "Don't be afraid."

The boy stared at the two in the cart for a moment, then holstered his six-shooter and climbed into the cart, lying down low. He spared a look back into the pen, but the posts hid the girl. Obviously the other two hadn't seen him run into her, and he was glad for that. The man driving spared the boy a welcoming glance, then turned to the blond man and motioned for him to lower his gun. He did so, asking,

"What's your name, kid?"

"William Bonney."

Billy was hoping to avoid most conversation during the ride, but the driver started talking, introducing himself as John Tunstall and the blond man as Josiah. Josiah countered,

"Most call me Doc."

John tried to strike up a decent dialogue by asking Billy where he was from, what kind of work could he do...but it seemed to be a one-way street. Billy gave the shortest possible answers to every question, and eventually John allowed the conversation to die away. The rest of the trip was silent but for the sound of the cart's wheels turning and the horses' hooves pounding the ground.