He Goes On All Fours - A Western Monster Romance

What Did He Do?

"Your name. Es como...a baby horse, no?"

Colt raised an eyebrow as he leaned back in his chair, crossing one leg over the other. He stared at the smirking gang leader sitting across from him, clearing his throat before responding.

"Yes."

"Ah. It suits you. You seem very young."

"I'm 22 years of age, sir."

Ezekiel twirled the glass cup in front of him, watching the exchange between the two men grow even more tense. He didn't want to budge in due to being morbidly curious as to what chaos would unfold, but as time passed by he felt it was necessary to intervene.

"Well, Mr. Hidalgo. Would you look at that. The man is older than you."

Colt didn't know how Ezekiel had known the other's age, but he figured it was because they had talked before. After all, with the way Jesús suddenly sat with him and his companion he figured some type of relationship had formed between them. The thought made him a little jealous, he admitted, but there was no hint of romantic interest amongst the two.

"19 years young, Mr. Townsend. Not that far from each other, then." Jesús lifted a glass cup full of beer, throwing his head back as he downed the whole thing in the blink of an eye. Colt stared at his own untouched beverage, hesitantly reaching out for it as he cleared his dry throat.

He hated how everyone always liked to poke fun at his youthful looks. It didn't help that he was so sheltered from the world. Jesús might've been younger than him, but he was rough, sturdy and looked older. The same could be said about Ezekiel. The men were around his age, but even so he looked so much younger than them. Was it due to his clean shaven face and short height? Or perhaps his naive way of looking at the world?

Without a second thought, young Colt brought the cup to his lips and swallowed every last drop with only one small cough. Jesús let out a little "Órale" before signaling for the bartender.

"Hey, amigo! A few bottles of the whiskey por favor."

Colt rubbed the side of his face with dread and glanced at Ezekiel, who was seemingly staring down Jesús with annoyance. Even so, he didn't seem to want to do anything about it. At least not yet.

"You know, brother. I've heard good things about your town." Jesús stayed silent for a moment as a saloon girl suddenly strolled over to him, carrying two bottles in her hands as she shot him a little wink. The man pulled out a bill of a large amount, tucking it in her hand as he blew her a kiss.

"Gracias, bonita." He refocused his attention to the two unamused men, refilling their cups to the very brim.

"Graveflat. Such a nice town. Your father must be very proud."

"He is," Colt responded, wondering if the other was trying to trying to get in good with him due to his status.

Jesús let out a muffled, almost mocking chuckle as he brought the cup close to his lips and chugged it down. His two companions reluctantly did the same, unsure of where he was going with what he was saying.

"My great grandfather also found a town. A long time ago. He died before he could see the fruit of his hard labor." Jesús's expression darkened as a glimpse of sorrow reflected in his eyes. It was there for less than a second before vanishing, and was instead replaced with a serious and somewhat angry gaze.

"I'm sorry for your loss. My mother passed away, so I recognize how hard it is." Colt responded, secretly wondering how the other had perished. As if reading his mind, Jesús refilled his glass cup as well as his own, intentionally ignoring Ezekiel. The creature didn't care, after all it wasn't as if he could feel the effects of the alcohol humans made. Regardless, he was concerned about the young man beside him. It seemed as if his eyelids were beginning to droop. He really couldn't handle one drink.