I finally wake up, groggy as hell as I stretch. I look over toward the bed and notice that the little birdy flew the coop. I sigh and mutter to myself. "Gon' have to find tha lil' sunnabitch and get that damn wen back..."

As I get up and dress myself, I hear footsteps approach my door. Maybe it was the lack of sleep or maybe I'm just on edge; but as soon as the door opens, I pull my gun out and aim it at...my little birdy. He stands frozen, his eyes focused solely on the gun.

"Oh." I say as I put my gun in my holster and straighten my bed.

"Oh? Oh? That's all you have to say?" he asks, closing the door behind him.

"Well, how was I s'pose to know you ain't fly the coop?"

"I'm pretty sure your horse established it doesn't like me that much."

I shrug and pack my things up. "We got a place to be little birdy. I see it's gettin' evenin' time. One place to stop and then we get the hell outta here."

I don't hear Dove respond so I take his silence as an "ok." I motion for him to grab what he needs and meet me outside. As I walk outside with my items and head toward Nina, I start thinking. The fear the little dove had when I pointed my gun at him...

It's starting to get to me. I ain't mean to scare him. I didn't recognize his footsteps yet! But that don't mean I ain't scare him. I sigh as I get Nina prepared. 

I see out the corner of my eye the birdy walk toward me and hand me some of his things. He keeps his distance from me and doesn't give me eye contact. I take his things and see him shrink a bit. I feel myself bite my lip as I throw the few items he got onto Nina as well. I take her reins and lead her to the Saloon we have to stop at.

After a while, the silence gets to me.

"Hey."

No answer.

"I'm sorry. I ain't mean to scare you. I'm used to bein' on my own with men tryna to kill me. I'm sorry."

I don't hear any response from him. Well, he aint gotta answer anyway. I'm man enough to take responsibility for my mistake. If he aint wanna accept it, so be it.

We head to the Saloon of the barkeep we have to give this poison whiskey bottle to. I figure we give him the bottle and haul ass out before anyone blames us. 

"Stay here. I'll be back."

I head in and go straight to the bar. The barkeep ain't too much to look at. He certainly ain't Lou but he's not an angel. He's a fat sunnabitch with a bushy beard and semi-intense eyes. The little bit of cheek I see from him is ruddy and his hair is graying. He looks to me and makes a grunting sound. As I study his face, I search my mind for where I seen this bastard before.

"What do you want?"

"Nothin' really. I gots a present from a friend of yours." I say as I hand him the whiskey bottle from my pocket. He looks it over and uncorks it. Smelling it, he looks impressed. 

"Thanks."

"Why not drink it now? I see you gots a successful Saloon and it's booming! Pretty sure you deserve a drink right fast," I say, grinning.

"You actin' like the damn thing's poisoned. What you put in this, boy?"

"I ain't here to start no trouble. I was asked to give you a gift and I see why you got it. Why think I'm here for some funny business?"

He seems to contemplate. He looks at the bottle again and uncorks it. He calls for someone as he begins to chug the drink down to the last drop. After what seemed to be a minute, I realized why I recognized him. He's someone I was searching for and his bounty is quite hefty.

A young man, prolly no more than 22 years, comes behind the bar. He's quite handsome with his brunette hair slicked back and a cute soft face. 

As the man begins to give orders, his speech starts to slur.

"Sir, you ok?"

Man continues to slur before he hits the bar and falls down. 

"Sir! Sir!"

I clear my throat. "While I'm guessing his friend had a vendetta against the sunnabitch, I'm gonna need you to help me drag him out to the Sheriff." I reach into my pocket and got through a few papers.

"What are you talking about?! Mr. Johnson is a good Christian man! Who the hell do you think you are, you---"
The boy begins to say until I hold up the bounty sheet to his face.

"Thomas "The Christian Gunner" Bell. Wanted to murdering Church folks in three different towns and stealing tithes. Bounty is $3,000 dead or alive. Unless you wanna be the next person dead, I suggest you help me take this fat bastard to the Sheriff," I say.

The young man looks at me, anger all across his face before he begins dragging his former employer from behind the bar. I meet him at the end and take over.

"Think of it this way: You get to run this Saloon the way you wanna. Have fun."

I begin dragging the body to the Sheriff's office, which aint far away. I see Dove watching me out the corner of my eye but right now, i pay it no mind. 

When I walk into the dusty Sheriff's office, the Sheriff sits at his desk with his feet propped up and hat over his face. I'm guessing he's sleeping. I throw the body down with a thud, startling the Sheriff awake.

"what the---" He begins.

"Thomas "The Christian Gunner" Bell. $3,000 bounty dead or alive. Here he is. Dead."

The Sheriff walks over to me and looks over my bounty paper and looks at the body. He scratches his head.

After leaving the Sheriff's office with my money, I walk to the other Saloon. The little birdy still refuses to look at me but he also looks like he wants to follow. I shake my head as I head into the other Saloon.

"It's done."

"Good."

He tosses me a little purse. I look inside and see it's all the money he promised.

"Pleasure doin' business with you."

I tip my hat as I walk out. The one thing I'll admit: This barkeep is straight to business and keeps conversations short when alls said and done. 

I head to Dove and Nina and pat Nina's back.

"I'll walk beside y'all. You get on the horse."

After a bit, Dove jumps onto Nina and we walk out of the town.