Gold, Guns and Death in the West - A Wild West Story

CHAPTER 3 - The Terror

"Afternoon, son. You're definitely new around here." The man said, calling over to the boy. Who said little in the midst of the harsh exchange.

"I get that alot." The boy responded.

"You one of them mercenaries?" Asked the man. Who leaned against one of the building's supporting poles.

"Bounty hunter." The barista answered for him. Who had moved to sit a few tables over, twiddling her thumbs with a cup of fine Jack Daniels.

"She your daughter?" The boy questioned, almost out of nowhere.

"Why? You thinking of anything funny, boy?" His tone changed aggressively. He wasn't exactly physically imposing, nevertheless the boy wanted to avoid a potential fight.

"Just curious is all. You answer no, then it'll probably seem creepy that you're in the backroom of her bar..." The younger man casually replied.

"My bar, kid. My daughter manages in my old age." The elderly man sternly corrected.

"That's mighty noble of you." The bounty hunter said towards the girl. She gave him a little curtsey in response. Which he found quite adorable, smiling a little. "You don't say much."

"Neither do you." She responded, crossing her arms. Her father chuckled as he placed his ancient, boney hand on the boy's shoulders.

"I was just playing with you, son. You come in here, steal the show and say as little as possible in the face of those dust mites. I already know you're a better feller than all five of them combined. You're welcome in here anytime." He patted his hand onto the boy's shoulders.

"Well thank you, mister. Place already feels like a sanctuary " He took another shot and drank it up, before relinquishing his drinks. "I gotta get to work, then."

"Never let those scum get the better of you, hear me?" The old man asked, as the boy tucked in his chair.

"No problem." He grabbed his broad hat off of the coat rack, tipping it to both the barista and he father as he made his way out of the saloon. "Good day to both of you."

On his way towards the mines, he was greeted by Mike. He waited in the balcony of the sheriff's office. He didn't see him at first, but was a little startled by his voice as his head shot towards where he had heard it.

"Look who's ready." He brushed off his cigar's lit end as he placed it on his ear.

"Drinking's an unappreciated leisure." The boy replied.

"Well then, you won't get paid by just standing around and filling your guts with alcohol. If anything, Eugene's gonna simply pay you in lead if he finds out you're slacking." Mike informed, with a careful warning. "By the way, friend. This ain't a threat, just fact."

"Acknowledged." Said the boy..

The two walked a few ways away, until they came across a cavern. It's entrance was supported with wooden beams. The distinct smell of coal could be detected even fifteen meters away from the opening in the ground. Distant sounds coming from the chasms of despair, unmistakably mining equipment. A track ran from the cave and all around the enclosed area. Horses with carts were caked with gold and gems, which a man could only dream of in the finest of fashions. Townspeople armed with various weapons kept watch from the tower and walls. Mike retrieved his cigar from his ear, lighting it and taking a long breath in and out.

"Welcome to absolute paradise." He sarcastically says.

"If this is paradise, then I'm a donkey's momma." The boy replied back. To which Mike laughed a little in response.