Yvgenia Yurievna

Life in the west had not been easy. Yvgenia's life hadn't been easy. She'd come out from Jamestown with her childhood sweetheart, all their worldly possessions piled high on a wagon--just like so many other poor souls desperate for a slice of the great frontier. It had been one disaster after another; A lame ox, more broken axles than they could afford to replace, half their possessions lost in a river crossing and then the final nail in the coffin. Her husband's coffin. Married barely six months, he'd managed to put his foot in a rattlesnake's nest and gotten himself deader than a doornail.

By the time she landed in Valentine, Yv was already relying on the kindness of a few strangers to keep herself afloat and about an inch away from having to join the bordello to keep from starving to death. It would have been understandable if she'd taken that course. Many women had. It wasn't what she wanted for herself, though. Well, it wasn't what most womenfolk wanted--but that was beside the point. She had learned a few skills along the journey that she could lean into that didn't sit quite so ill with her. Namely, cards. Not that many men were willing to play against a woman, but those that were got to know her well enough. A few too many rounds of good luck landed her in the local jail, accused of cheating just a few too many times.

A little jail time, a little more bad luck and nineteen year old Yvgenia found herself swept up into the Roughnecks, a gang headed up by "Mad Dog" McGrall. At first, their interest in her skill with cards kept her useful. Useful enough that they taught her to shoot. And to hunt. And a myriad of other things that no proper woman back east would be caught dead doing. A half dozen years later and she'd found herself occupying a position at Mad Dog's side. A dozen years later, it was Yvgenia that helped him dismantle the gang as the world moved toward lawfulness and regulation.

These days, Yv ran a small horse ranch in the Grizzlies. It wasn't exactly an easy life, particularly since she chose not to take on much in the way of farmhands. It was lucrative, though. The local town didn't have easy access to quality stock and she knew enough about handling horseflesh to fill that particular void. It wasn't a luxurious life by any means, but it was hers--and for the first time in her life, she was no longer dependent on anyone else to make sure she was fed and sheltered.