The Customs Agent

River Flats

Harlan Trench pulled the string of his tobacco pouch tight with his teeth and stuffed it into his shirt pocket. He stood lazily on the front porch of the hotel, one foot behind him on the wall while he rolled his cigarette. The air felt damp and weighty as it began gusting, leaving a cold sensation on his skin.

A late evening sun seemed tired from finding holes in the gathering clouds and floated slowly into the darkening landscape bringing the hotel clerk outside to light the hurricane lanterns hanging along the balcony overhang.

"Looks like weather comin' for sure," he offered to Trench, walking to the edge of the porch, peering at the sky with a pinched face. Dust eddies swirled up from the street and another sudden gust of wind made him shield his eyes.

"Gonna be a blow alright." Harlan drew on his cigarette and the smoke danced quickly away with a small burst of sparks.

"You comin' in, I'm gonna shut up the doors?"

"Go ahead. Think I'll hide out in the saloon."Harlan pushed ff the wall and hopped down onto the road, leaning into the building wind as he crossed the street.

******

"Three of a kind, my friend; you lose." Reagan Hubble scraped the bills toward him and organized them into a neat bundle. "Another hand?"

"I'm done," the feed store proprietor sighed. "You're too lucky for me, Hubble."

"Anyone else?"

"Nah, I'm with Ned. 'Sides, sounds like we're gonna get a storm and I gotta batten down the livery."

A crack of thunder made the men at table start, deciding the rest of their evening quickly as chairs scraped back followed by the thud of boots headed for the door.

Trench came in as the others ran out and he went straight to the bar, holding up one finger. Rain arrived like an ambush and the cursing from the departing men could be heard as they all ran for new cover. He leaned on the bar and looked round. The whole room looked and felt brown. Dark stained wood on the bar, the walls, the stairs and even the shelves behind the bar were filled with brown liquid.

He accepted the glass and sipped, shoving the depressing surroundings from his mind.

"You prob'ly need to close up, Charlie. Wind's pickin' up somethin' fierce."

"Might as well, only you and Hubble; he's done and you only ever have one."

"Wanna play some cards, mister?" Hubble called from across the room.

Harlan studied the poker player he had been following, with interest. The face was florid with pale brows and washed out blue eyes. Clean shaven, Hubble, when standing was just under six feet and heavy through the upper body. The tinged colour of his face was set off by the thigh length cream jacket and matching Stetson.

"No thanks. Don't consider it playin' with someone who makes it a business." He raised his glass and smiled.

Another thunderclap had them both flinching and a brief scream came from upstairs as Charlie leaned the doors closed and started to set the lock.

"Sounds like your girls are getting worried, Charlie."

"Good reason too, that storm's more than fierce; street's already awash!"

A woman with her robe pulled tight about her and arms huddling her body came to the top of the stairs and called down to Charlie.

"The shutter broke loose in Meg's room; rain's leakin' in the window."

Trench downed his drink and held up a hand to the bartender. "I'll go, you finish down here." He hopped up the stairs, grinning at the woman.

"Oh my, our saviour."