Hell Bent for Leather/Giving Up
Heyes rode up and dismounted in front of the Mercantile. He tied his mare to the hitching rail and with a quick pat to her neck, he came up the steps digging out his shopping list as he went. He and Kid had just picked up their horses from the livery and had briefly parted company in order to make the purchasing of supplies more economical time wise. They needed food stuffs for themselves and the horses as well as a re-supply of bullets for the rifles. Hunting cougars for a nearby rancher had paid well but had left them short of ammunition.
Kid had naturally headed for the gunsmith-hardware store while Heyes, as mentioned entered the cool dusky interior of the mercantile. He studied his list intently even though he already had a good idea of what they were short of but he wanted to be sure he didn't forget anything. They had a long ride ahead of them for their next job and being caught short of an essential while on the trail could be more than inconvenient.
Most mercantile's were laid out in a similar fashion so Heyes casually strolled around the shelving's, scanning his eyes over the products until he found the items on the list. He considered the various sizes available on flour sacks ranging from 5lbs all the way up to 60lbs. It doesn't take a genius, self-proclaimed or otherwise to know that they travelled light and Heyes picked up the 5lb sack. He casually carried on until he found the salt and again chose a small satchel rather than the larger 10lb that was leaning up against the back of the shelving.
He carried on in that manner for some minutes, tipping his hat to one or two ladies who smiled at hm a little nervously, but still smiled at him. His mind wasn't on them and he carried on basically ignoring the other few patrons who walked the isles but seemed to keep their distance. Everyone had their own business and personal space requirements dictated a certain aloofness after all. Heyes creased his brow when he couldn't see coffee grounds where he thought they should be. He looked up and down and around, but nothing. Hmm, they had to have coffee.
“Excuse me,” he called over to the clerk behind the counter. “where's your coffee?”
The clerk was watching him and appeared slightly apprehensive. “Ah, it's right over there on the other side of the potato's.”
Heyes looked where the clerk pointed and he spotted the desired item. “Oh! Thank you.”
He walked over to the next shelf, chose the size of coffee that best suited and then made his way over to the counter and the cash register. The clerk smiled at him but didn't say anything.
“I'd also like a pound of bacon, wrapped up real good,” Heyes told him as he dumped his cargo onto the counter. “The leanest ya' got.”
“Oh. Ahhh....”
The clerk's eyes shifted to Heyes' left and Heyes followed the look just in time to hear the click of a hammer pulling back and found himself staring down the barrel of a colt 45. Heyes felt the chill go through him but on the outside a dimpled smile took over as his gaze moved up to lock onto a set of hard dark eyes that meant business.
“Oh, well howdy there Marshal Dickson,” Heyes greeted the tin star. “Imagine running into you here of all places.”
“Yeah, imagine,” the marshal growled. “Small world ain't it?”
“A little too small...” came Heyes' mumbled response as he felt someone behind him slip his schofield out of its holster.
“Get yer hands up Heyes, don't you move.”
“Well I can hardly do both at the same time....”
“Shuddup!” came the harsh response. “None 'a your lip! You know damn well what I mean now do it!”
