The Merry docked at a small wooden pier. Palm trees swayed. The village was quiet, almost sleepy — fishing nets hanging to dry, cats lounging in the sun. And at the end of the main street, a single saloon stood proudly.

The wooden floors creaked as the crew pushed through the saloon doors. A few locals glanced up, then quickly returned to their drinks. Behind the bar, wiping a glass with a rag, stood a young woman.