Death Raids A Heart

Pt. I

Somewhere In Mexico
Day 19
16:47 hrs

In a little saloon, a two miles from border, a good two dozen or so patrons divulged in drinking either by themselves or in groups of two, five or six; a few women sitting on the laps of some men that they fancied or chose to play for their money. One patron sat all by himself in the corner of the room while another sat by himself but only to keep the saloon lively even though the voices of the patrons were as loud as a mall full of children on an indoor bouncy castle. A group of men playing poker grew rowdy. The lonely man remained undisturbed even by the the loud chatter when stumbled along a drunk, littering the floor with peanuts. 

Some slight soberness in the man made him slide his eyes to the man slumbering in the corner with his hat lowered and his poncho concealing any weaponry. Boldly, the tipsy man wandered over to the mysterious patron as he kicked the feet of the man, waking him from his sleep, to which those in the saloon turned their blind eyes as the disturbance neglected the fright to all who were about to watch things unfold. Slowly, he raised his head up, his hat revealing his scruffy face to the drunken man who found a sudden desire to arouse a fight. 

"Go away," groused the stranger as he stared daggers at the man who disturbed his peace. 

"Hey, amigo! I ain't seen your face 'round these parts b'fore. Where was you...? The Bank of El Paso, eh, gringo?" The drunken man slurred, his tipsiness resulting in his unintentional laughter fuming the man disturbed by the fault of his mistress failing to entertain his needs. 

A few eyes turned their way in curiosity of what disturbance laid within the saloon they part-took in the endless festivities. Slowly, the man rose up to his feet, a fist curled which drove into the cheek of the drunken man. The collision threw the victim's head into the wall, the shock causing a concussion due to the softness of the man's head due to previous injuries, which, as a result, led to instant death. The body fell backwards along the wall, blood dripping out of the back of his skull. 

More excitement grew as another man grabbed the eyes of the patrons as a body rolled down the stairs. The body got up as the host scrambled for a bottle on a table undisturbed by his body rattling it on his descent from the second floor. Dazed as if a chair was smashed over his head, the man grabbed the bottle and met his attacker by swinging under his opponent's arm and smashed the bottle on the side of his head, dropping the rest of it when a barfight broke out. 

A man wearing a hat, satchel, rope and Schofield Revolver struggled to flee the scene he unintentionally joined as a man jumped on his back and wrapped his hands around his neck and struggled to squeeze when the man slammed his back and the man into a wall which broke his attackers grip on him, allowing him the chance to escape. Angry voice yelled after the man who stormed out of the saloon for a horse awaiting its ride to mount it. 

Those pursuing him had drawn rifles in an attempt to kill or incapacitate the rider or the horse either way, so long as one of them was able to be killed. Bullets whizzed in both directions, not a single person being hit as the exchange didn't benefit either until a train provided the opportunity to escape. Angered voices screamed from afar as the singular man rode alongside the moving locomotive before placing his feet on the back of his horse, a leap managing to secure his spot on board before the train rode through a tunnel. 

Confident of his escape, the man drew an item from his satchel and admired the golden watch when a loud clang came from the exact second a club hit the back of his head, causing him to fall to the side into the carriage of the locomotive where his prize was stolen from him before blacking out.