Love & Lost - [Cowboy Plate]

Chapter 1 - Following Orders

{Trigger Warning}
•Mentions of past alcohol abuse
•Heavy implications of daddy issues
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A glove hand slammed down a tattered piece of paper onto the table, startling the man who had been leaning backwards in their seat, almost falling asleep. The man grumbled as he tipped up his hat in order to look up at the figure that had disturbed them, sneering a bit as he saw who stood in front of him. Disturbed his alone time.

"What do yer want, boy?" The man spoke, his voice guff and horse. "Can't you tell it's my nap time?"

"This is a serious matter, Sheriff." The figure straightened up, glaring at the careless Sheriff. "Something has been stolen from our town a few days ago. And we need to find the item and its culprit."

"So what?" The Sheriff huffed, not interested in the conversation in the slightest. "A lot of our stuff goes missin' for a few days. And they always get returned back to us in the end, along with the thieves."

"Sir, please, take this seriously." The man rubbed his temples. "It's a very rare item, one that people had looked for and died for in order to get their hands on it. We can't sit idly by and wait for it to turn up. Please, let me—."

The man felt his jaw tightened as he heard the Sheriff's boots hit the ground harshly with a thunderous stomp! sound. The man felt himself swallow dryly as he kept his eyes on the Sheriff's, never once blinking or looking away. The older man had his hands on the table in front of him, his nails slightly digging into the wood.

"Now you listen here, boy," The Sheriff started, his tone low and serious. "I don't care that you're one of my best men. I am not sending you out to find some sort of junk. Your work is here. Your job is here. Got it?"

The two glared at one another. The younger male had clenched his fists, feeling them start to shake a bit. While his face remained unexpressive and neutral, on the inside, however, he felt his blood boil. He usually never questions the older man and how he went about doing his job —something that would slowly irk the man over the years— but as of now, he was very tempted to break away from the restraints he had in order to make the Sheriff actually do something.

"How about this," The Sheriff huffed, sitting back in his chair with his ankle resting on his knee. "If you can find something worth my wild, then, and only then, will I send someone out to look for it."

"What's the catch?" The figure furrowed his eyebrows, glaring.

"Always so quick to assume." The Sheriff shook his head. "I already have enough on my plate to give you a catch, boy."

"That's bullshit, and you know it." The male huffed. "There's always a catch with you and your deals."

"Fine." The Sheriff groaned. "If you don't find anything, or are unable to hand in something that will reconsider, I will personally send you back to where you came from. And we both know that you don't want that to happen, right, son?"

The younger male bit his tongue, giving a firm nod as he grabbed the paper and started folding it up, before placing it in his pocket. He shot one last glare towards the Sheriff, before he pulled out a cigar and matches and lit it up. He blew the smoke towards the older man before leaving, rudely shoving a person who had entered as he heard a faint 'oi' sound as he was outside. He didn't even bother looking behind him as he headed to the scene of the crime.

The male he had shoved tried to call out to him, but it fell on deaf ears. He let out a small sigh as he hesitantly walked up to the Sheriff, seeing that the older man was clearly pissed off. He swallowed dryly as he opened his mouth and said: