As I bring the cigarette to my lips, I inhale as I make my way to the bar in this run down saloon. A bunch of drunken idiots playing cards games while some fella plays the piano in the corner greets me as I sit down. I click my tongue at the barkeep and place down some money.
While this saloon has damn near run its course, I'll admit it's a familiar and comforting sight.
When I came here the first time in this little town of Bayberry, it seemed brand new. The girls were young, the liquor was fresh and the men were as rowdier than a bull on rampage. But that was about two years ago and from what i heard, Calvin James Thompson took this town under his control.
The Barkeep, Lou, is a coward. Of course he'd allow some railroad-making bastard to come and take it over. But I guess it makes sense. Lou's a tall skinny thing with gangly arms that could break like a twig if you squeeze a bit. He comes over, polishing a mug. From how few girls are actually upstairs, it must be a slow night.
"Been a while since I seent ya, Show," Lou says, looking at the money and then at me. "And you best watch who ya click ya tongue at. Ya lucky I'm more tolerable about Orientals. Anyone else and they'd whip your ass good."
"Oh shut ya mouth. I ain't here about your damn talk about how you tolerate Orientals and shit. I need a lil' bit of comfort and some liquor."
"Well, you know Clara is always ready when you come 'round. And I got a little new thing if you're looking for somethin' a lil' more...tight." Lou puts away the mug, grabs a fresh one and fills it with alcohol.
After giving me the mug, I gulp it back before slamming it down. "A new thing? How new?"
"Been here for atleast a year or two now. Little Oriental man. There he is! C'mere, Dove."
"Dove?"
As I turn, I see a man come toward the bar. He looks fairly clean, dressed in something close to what Lou is wearing now. He looks over the tops of his glasses. I have to say he's insanely pretty with soft features. I look him up and down as I stand up from my stool. If I had to guess how tall he was, he couldn't be more than 5'4" or 5'5" compared to my 6'2".
"Dove is the nickname I gave him. He was sold to me and he's been here ever since. Wanna try him out? He can give you a bit of comfort if you're looking for it."
I think about it. I nod. "Alright. I'll take 'im."
"Dove, give this man some comfort. And don't you think 'bout tryin' to attack 'im or run away. This one here is a special one."
As I stare at him, he rolls his eyes a little before nodding. "This way please."
From listening to him, he has a bit of an accent. Not quite straight from the motherland but definitely not from around here. I follow him up the stairs and pass by rooms where a few men are helping these women call out to God. I start thinking that after this, I'll find Clara.
He leads me into a room, that's quite small but that's to be expected. A simple table, two chairs and a bed is all that's kept in this room. It makes me frown as I know the girls have more than this.
As I ponder, I begin to notice Dove beginning to take off his vest and then begin to undo his shirt. "Just so you know: the conversation i had with the owner isn't an invitation to "break" me in. I'll whip your ass if you even think it."
I raise my hand up and shake my head, stifling a laugh. "That ain't necessary. You ain't gotta take off ya clothes. I'm wanting some information."
He pauses and looks at me. I notice the welts from where he'd be whipped while his shirt is up. He quickly pulls it down before folding his arms.
"Information?"
"Yea. Ya seen this man?" I hold up a poster.
WANTED
Thomas "Mickey The Kid" Ackerman
Wanted for Robbery and Murder
Dead or Alive
$7,500 Reward
I see him look at the poster and then look at me. After a few moments of silence, he says, "Maybe. But I don't give information for free."
"Then how do i get information from ya?"
He goes over to his bed and rummages under his sad excuse for a pillow before pulling out a deck of cards. "I want to play a game of cards. You beat me; I'll tell you what you want to know. I beat you; you get out this room."
My eyes widen as a sly grin creeps on my face. His name should have been Puma cause he certainly caught me off guard with his claws. I fold my arms as I look at him. "What makes you so sure you gon' win?"
"Are you nervous that you met your match?"
I let out a laugh before pulling one of the chairs over and sit. "Alright. Shuffle."
He sits in front of me and begins to shuffle his cards. As we play, I can't help but think the kid has a knack for poker. Part of me wants to let the little cute thing win but this is a fairly important bounty. I can't let it slip through my fingers.
As I draw one card, I look back up at the boy. He's fairly kept together despite his status.
His hair, a very stark white color, is parted and is greased back. His glasses sit close to the tip of his nose and his eyes are a pretty blue color. Another thing I notice is how ghostly white he is with traces of pink on his cheeks, ears, joints and nose. It's cute.
"Four of a Kind," he says, putting his book down. There's a small smile on his face that seems coy. He might be playing me but I'm willing to play along. The cute little dimples in his cheeks is charmin'.
"Oh wow, you're good. You're good," I say, "I dunno how I'mma beat that!"
His smile gets a tad wider.
"Well, all I have is...A Straight Flush," I say as I place my book down.
He shakes his head but he smile never disappears as he takes all the cards and begins shufflin' them again. "Looks like I lost. Alright, I'll tell you what you want to know. Mickey said to the Owner that he plans to stay in town for the week after coming in yesterday. He frequents this saloon very often and will probably come in tonight. He usually carries a gun on his left hip and a knife on his belt. You're better off waiting until he's drunk."
I raise my eyebrows as I nod. "That's more than enough information for me. Thank ya kindly."
"You don't want to stay for another game? You have atleast ten more minutes before you have to leave my room," Dove says, throwin' cards down from where I sat to him. "Afraid to lose again?"
I chuckle as I sit back down. What the hell, I can spare ten minutes before I go looking for Clara. I pick up my book and we begin playin' cards again.
After hearing about his father die from working on the railroad, a lone bounty hunter only referred to as "Shang Show" looks for the man who did it: a man named Calvin James Thompson, owner of the Thompson Railway.
With the help of a prostitute simply called "Dove", Shang Show and Dove go on a journey of revenge and revelations of love in the Wild Wild West
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