Leave Your Guns At Home

Outside the two-bit two-street town a sign sat askew in the sand. “Leave your guns at home.” The Bounty Hunter smiled to himself. Where, exactly, is that meant to be? Ah well, can’t leave ‘em here, and a man needs a drink in the desert.

With mock resolve he pulled his belt up and trod off down the hill. The old poncho he’d picked up in the last town kept the desert cold off his skin.

He passed by the loudest saloon. A riotous establishment called The Bended Knee. A piano was being plunked wildly inside, accompanied by the shouting of miner’s payday. Down the main street a bit, though, was a place more the Bounty Hunter’s speed. The lights didn’t shine so bright, and no music at all rang out from its faded paneled walls.

The floor creaked loudly under his boots and the rickety wooden saloon doors slammed

open with a thunderous crack at the lightest touch. What chatter had picked up between the four men playing poker in the corner of the smoke-filled room died. The Bounty Hunter grinned and tipped his hat.

“Evenin, gents.”

With some uncouth grumbling the four turned back towards their game and money.

The bounty hunter walked over to the barman with a smile.

“Evenin.”

“Howdy, stranger. What can I do you for?” The man’s bulbous nose was sweaty over his quivering mustache.

“Couple a’ shots, wouldn’t go amiss.” In one deft gesture, the Bounty Hunter flipped a gold coin onto the counter. He spied a box of long, thin cigars. “Plus one a’ those.” Another coin pinged through the air, landing next to the other. “An the bottle.” He pulled out two more coins, and dropped them on top of the rest.

The bartender’s beady eyes lit up at the gold glinting back up him. “Right away.”

Behind the Bounty Hunter, the sounds of conversation from the poker table stopped.

 

Switched it up a bit this time and went for more of a western theme. What do you guys think? Do you like the Bounty Hunter character? Let me know if you want me to expand on any of these ideas! Thanks for reading!