Evenin' Sheriff

Chp.2: It's Happy Hour Alright!

Two Years Later

SHERIFF THOMPSON stood in the dark lonesome streets of Widow's Return, staring up at the moon with his one good eye. He walked steadily and calmly. He was on his midnight watch, keeping his eye on his old town.
Nothing ever happened in Widow's Return. No crime to lookout for. Thompson's job was downright pointless for this place. But of course, that only meant he wouldn't become a workacoholic like the rest of the fools in the town. He liked an easy job and an easy life. It was far more relaxing than the life he was forced to have before.

Thompson continued on, carelessly glancing around at the buildings without a second thought. It's not like he would see anything other than the scavengers at this hour.

He pulled out an old flask from his coat pocket. Engraved in the tin, was few words he hadn't had the time to read again. Thompson popped the lid and drank. Saloon was never open at this time, but the bartender always allowed the lad some drinks to spare for the road.
Thompson reached the end of the can, licking his lips as he screwed on the lid to his container.

But something caught his eye that made him turn, which was of the rarity. Something in the distance, in those endless shadows. It danced...only for a split second. It happened so fast, he almost didn't believe it. Wasn't movement of any scavenger he'd seen. It was humane, controlled. That's what made it significant to the eye.
Thompson called out.

Tord remained in silence. The clad in blood red clothing - dark enough to be the night, but still upholding it's color, kept his position and refused to move. There was no way he was going to be caught. Not today, and especially not by him.

Thompson eventually shrugged his shoulders and began proceeding forward without a second thought. Tord sighed, waiting for the sheriff to fade from view before he continued down the alleyway. Of all the places for him to be, it had to be here, just great! Tord dreaded the idea of staying, but he had no choice.
His horse was dead, his money and supplies were short, and everywhere else he was being hunted. This was the closest town, he had to settle for something or he'd be cast out to the desert wasteland. He didn't have to stay for long, just for now.

Once Tord was sure that the sheriff was far enough away, he began peeking around at nearby buildings. He looked for an Inn, or at least an old building with free rent. But it seemed this town was a visitor free environment. Every building was either a seamstress shoppe or a shoe shinning parlor. He didn't even want to acknowledge the custom coffin making businesses. Widow's Return had to be the saddest town he'd ever come upon.

Tord returned to the alley and kept walking along the shadows. He pulled out his last gold coin out from his knapsack and held it over his eyes, running his thumb over the engraving. Then, with a flick of his finger, he tossed the coin up into the air. It stayed there for a millisecond where it reflected off the moonlight, before it fell back into the palm of his hand. Tord sighed.

Two years... That's how long it's been since Tord had spoken with the now sheriff, or even held eye contact with the guy. And for every day of those two years, he couldn't stop thinking about him. As much as he wanted to suppress every thought of the man, the memory of him leaked into his brain no matter what Tord did. And ever since two years ago, he dreaded the day he would see him again.
It'd be best if I don't engage with him, Tord made a mental note; as if he had just decided it to be so. And that was his last thought of the sheriff before he pressed on through the alley, once again hiding the memory of the other in the darkness he walked through.

It suddenly got darker, noticably so. The clouds merged over the moon's lovely light, coating the land before it in completely cold darkness. The only light now was incredibly faint, that coming from someone's lit candle wick in the window of a distant building.

Tord had trouble adjusting to this lighting. It took him ten minutes at least to get adjusted to darkness with the moon. He never was all that great at seeing in the dark without it.
Tord stumbled into tin trash cans, the metal clanking together messily as he fell to the ground. The garbage inside broke some of his fall, but the worse part was he'd ruined his last good pair of clean clothes. He groaned, sitting up and locating a wood wall behind the trash cans.

He sat against the cold building, looking up at the dark sky. The moonlight returned, only it was a little late for that. "Oh, come on! That would've been helpful 20 seconds ago!" Tord whisper yelled at the moon, shaking his fist in annoyance. His hat fell over his eyes due to the movement. He sighed, fixing it back onto his head before he leaned back again. He closed his eyes in defeat. "Fine, you win, world." There, he had a moment to himself.

"Hooey! It's finally happened!" Tord shot open his eyes, turning sharply in the direction of the voice. He saw a man, wearing dirty clothes to match an equally as dirtied apron. He jumped around a few feet away from where Tord was sat. The light from the building the man had just left illuminated his excitement. Tord came to a stand, amused.

"I can finally leave this outcast town and join my people in the city! Woo!" The man squeezed a small box, as he held it tightly to his chest. "One more goldy and I'm gone! So long you useless saloon!" He turned back to the building and spat the doorstep, clapping his heels in one more jump with glee before he began to walk away.

"Hey!" Tord called out to the man. The joy filled man turned to face Tord, a questioning expression on his face. Tord stepped into the light with an approachable smile on. "Mind if I take this place off your hands? I trust you won't be needin' it." He flicked the coin at the man, which he caught instantly. He returned the smile
"Heh, sure kid, she's all yours." The man took out the keys to the old place and tossed them to Tord. With their exchange complete, the two parted ways, both pleased.

Tord played with the keys, there only being two. I could've just robbed the guy, Tord thought, but he shrugged off his missed opportunity. "At least I have a place to stay." Tord walked inside, shutting the back door behind him.

Tord found himself behind the counter of the saloon, assorted beverages that would last a lifetime lined the walls and the inner shelf of the back counter. Tall glasses for beer sat on a shelf alongside the many smaller shot glasses.

Bar stools and tables were scattered about, a rusty piano sitting in the far corner of the room next to a coat holder. The front doors of the saloon we're almost directly across from the back one, windows allowing a peek at the outside streets were here and there.

Tord noticed stairs leading up to a separate room. At the top was a door, which was locked. This fact filled Tord with elation, as he believed that it was an upper bedroom for him to sleep in. He used one of the two keys to unlock the door, which he opened with no hesitation. His suspicions proved to be correct.

Inside was a small room, one big window on his right. There was practically no decor or furniture besides one twin-sized bed, a dresser, and one standup circular mirror.
It wasn't much, but it was more than enough for Tord.

He tossed his hat onto the bed, walking over to the window, where the moonlight peered in. He pushed the window open, allowing the cold air to enter. The moonlight seemed to caress Tord's skin, embracing his presence as he embraced the moon in return.