Heaving a sigh, Eugene began to walk down the dusty road again, looking around until his Palomino was in sight once again. His lips tugged into a tiny, almost indiscernible smile, heart swelling a little bit at the sight of his trusty horse.
“Hey, boah…” the outlaw whispered to Whiskey the horse, patting its head, “...let’s get on outta here.”
He’d been in Graydale for too long. Sure, it had only been a day, and although he’d given his real name, the folks seemed like they weren’t on the lookout for wanted criminals, but you could never be too cautious. It was time to move on, to find a different town, a different job.
“C’mon, boah…” Eugene encouraged the horse, lightly tapping its flanks to make the stallion move. He started off on a trot, before picking up speed, riding in a full gallop. This was one of his favorite parts of riding; the wind on your face, the sheer speed of a wonderful animal such as a horse, the freedom to ride for as long or as far as you want.
This was the life.
Eugene didn’t even realize he’d entered a rich town until he saw the state of the people in it–finer clothes, hair done up and pretty, big houses spread throughout the plains. It wasn’t so much a town, but more of a collection of mansions, only a few stores dotting the dirt roads.
Rich people mean money.
And Eugene needs money.
“Yah, boah,” the outlaw spurred his horse, riding into town to stop at the post office, wondering if there were any bounties around. He stopped outside the small, wooden building, hitching off Whiskey. Eugene looked around a few times, wondering if any of the townspeople were watching, before entering the post office.
There were only a few people inside; though he didn’t expect much on a Wednesday. A woman and a toddler sat at a chair, envelopes in the mother’s hands. A man stuffing a bag full of mail. The man who worked in the office was standing at the counter.
“Good afternoon, sir,” the worker greeted.
“Afternoon,” Eugene nodded back, approaching the counter. He leaned against the surface of it, much like he had at the saloon only hours before. “Say, I’m lookin’ for some…work. Just a small job, nothin’ permanent, but pays well.”
“A commission?” the postman asks, tilting his head to the side.
“Yeah…a commission,” the bounty hunter repeats, lowering his voice a little, “...got any o’ those?”
“Hmm…let me look,” the worker hummed, opening a drawer behind the counter and picking up a few files, scanning through them. “We don’t get many commissions around these parts, we don’t have much crime, but I remember a recent call…”
He picked out a certain file, eyes lighting up as he recognized it. “Ah, this one.” The man cleared his throat, reading aloud, “‘Clara Williams. Please bring her to the Williams residence at once, at the edge of town. The reward is $5000.”
Eugene had to stop himself from either whooping with joy or passing out with shock. Instead, his eyebrows raised to nearly his hairline, and he let out a low whistle. “$5000…now that’s a lotta money. Got any idea what this sage hen did?”
The worker shrugged, still looking at the file. “All that’s left says that she was last seen on the edge of town, past the Williams residence. Would you like to take this copy?”
Waving his hand, the bounty hunter shook his head. “Nah, I’m good. I may be gettin’ old, but my memory’s still sharper than a knife.”
“Alright, sir,” the postman shrugged again, before getting back to his work. Eugene, seeing how big of a job this must be, exited the post office, returning to Whiskey.
“Go, boah,” the outlaw muttered, kicking the horse’s flanks lightly, and the Palomino began to trot again, heading for the edge of town.
His mind raced with possibilities of what this woman could have done. Did she run away from her husband? That had happened before. Eugene had turned in two wives throughout his bounty hunting career, one who had murdered her man, the other who simply ran away.
Or perhaps Clara Williams had murdered, robbed, or kidnapped someone. Although the postman had said this town didn’t face much crime, there was still a possibility.
But what he thought about the most was the amount on the bounty. $5000. No one offered that much money unless they wanted someone back badly. So whoever wanted Clara Williams returned was either intent on her safety or death.
He shook his head, trying to push the thoughts away. Eugene hardly thought about his bounties anymore; he shouldn’t be thinking about this one now. Just because it was a lot of money didn’t mean that it was very important. But still…
…it weighed on his mind.
Eugene hadn’t been given a description, or where this woman may be headed, but he had to trust his gut. The bounty hunter was usually a pretty good judge of character–he could tell when someone looked suspicious, that constant glance over their shoulder, or the one nervous tic that repeated itself over and over again.
He could see right through one who was guilty, he could see that tiny flash in their eyes that said they were lying. Eugene could see them hold their breath, or clench their fists, he could see through them as if they were a piece of glass.
So he just rode past a huge mansion, heading west, on the lookout for any towns or settlements around. Who knew how long this woman had been gone; days, weeks, months? He hoped it was for days. No matter how much this bounty was worth, Eugene was not riding all the way to California.
Finally, he came across a sign that bore the name, “Willow Run.” Well, it seemed like a good place to start.
“Woah, boah,” Eugene slowed down Whiskey a bit, easing into a gentle trot as he looked at the town. It was much smaller than the previous one–which he didn’t even catch the name of–or even Graydale. But if someone was trying to run, to hide…this would be the perfect spot.
The bounty hunter hitched Whiskey up at one of the public horse hitches, patting the horse’s neck affectionately before turning to the rest of the town, wondering where to go first.
Well, may as well try the saloon.
He didn’t want another fight again, that was for sure, but Eugene figured if he kept his head, and if the folks weren’t a pain in the ass, he’d be alright. Pushing open the wooden doors, the fugitive hunter’s eyes scanned the interior of the saloon, searching for any woman in sight.
There were the workers, of course, women dressed in skirts and busty tops, hair and makeup done up nice and pretty, doting on each of the male patrons, but Eugene doubted whoever this Clara Williams was couldn’t land a job that quickly.
So instead, he started asking around.
Easing down in a seat at a poker table, Eugene leaned back in the chair, looking at the men around him. Most seemed cleaner than those in Graydale, but a few looked like they’d seen better days. He expected some glares or looks cast his way when joining their poker game, but it appeared the strangers were too inebriated to notice or care.
“Howdy,” Eugene greeted, tipping his hat.
“Howdy,” one of the men greeted.
“Hey.”
“Hiya.”
“Say, wanna join?” Another drunkenly asked, looking at Eugene with spinning eyes.
“Nah, I’m good,” the bounty hunter shook his head, crossing his arms over his burly chest. “Don’t mind conversation, though. I got a few questions for ya.”
“Yes, I have a wife,” one of the men immediately answered, making the rest of them break out in befuddled laughter. A few slapped their knees, one choked on his drink, and another patted the other’s back. Eugene gave a small smirk, not entirely seeing the humor in the statement.
“Ha…that’s not what I’m askin’, though,” Eugene continued, scratching his beard, “I’d like to know if y'all’ve seen a woman ‘round these parts.”
“Woman? I see a woman right there!” One of the drunkards chortled, making the rest burst into laughter once again.
Though he was trying to be patient, Eugene rolled his eyes, taking a deep breath to keep himself from drawing his gun. “Nah…I mean a new woman. A stranger ‘round these parts. Anyone new come to…Willow Run?” What a stupid name for a town. Willows can’t run.
The men didn’t seem to listen, however, continuing to laugh at their childish jokes. They must’ve been snortin’ it for a while now, and if Eugene kept this up, he’d go nowhere.
“Say…thanks, pals,” the bounty hunter stood up, hoping he’d at least be acknowledged by the drunks, but they only chuckled in their intoxicated stupor, giggling like a bunch of schoolchildren. Eugene rolled his eyes, heaving a long sigh as he left the saloon, feeling tired now. This wouldn’t be worth the $5000 if he couldn’t even find the damn woman…some help the people of “Willow Run” had been.
The bounty hunter exited the saloon once again, staring at his boots as he walked down the steps, only to find himself colliding with something small, and soft. “Oof!” the outlaw grunted, wind knocked out of him for a second as he looked down to find a fluffy head of curls, barely even reaching his chest.
“Say, watch where yer-” Eugene started to say, but the fluffy thing took a step back, blue eyes wide as it stared up at the cowboy. No, not it–her.
It was a little girl, likely no older than twelve, a frizzy mop of curls on her head, blue dress coated with dust. She immediately began to apologize, high voice making Eugene’s head hurt. “I-I’m so sorry, mister, I didn’t-I didn’t see you there, oh, I’m sorry-”
Eugene sighed, trying not to be annoyed by the child. She was just a little girl, there was no need to be mad…he was just already having such a shitty day.
‘Deep breaths, ya ugly bastard, deep breaths…’ he said to himself in his mind, closing his eyes for a moment to gather his thoughts.
Despite himself, the outlaw checked his pockets, making sure the girl hadn’t grabbed anything. You never knew, there were always little maggots who might be desperate enough to try and steal from anyone and everyone who looked like they had money on them.
“...It’s- fine, kid,” he managed out through grit teeth once he knew everything was accounted for, taking another breath to completely keep his cool. “Just- watch where the hell yer goin’.”
He sighed, brushing past the girl, hoping to find some inn to bed down for the night. He could continue his search for Clara Williams in the morning.
But the girl didn’t go away.
“Say, mister, I can’t help but notice you have a gun,” the little thing pointed out, tiny feet moving fast to catch up with his pace.
His hand instinctively rested atop the weapon, and Eugene glanced down at the kid, giving her a cold look, attempting to ignore her. But she was just so damn annoying. “Yeah…I do. Got a problem with that?”
“...well, no,” she admitted, spinning in a circle for a moment before she went right back to following Eugene, looking up at him with those innocent eyes. “I’ve just never seen one before, that’s all.”
The outlaw’s eyebrows furrowed. “Never seen a gun? Ya live in the most uncivilized part o’ the West…how’ve ya never seen a gun?”
Shrugging, the kid kicked her tiny boot against the dirt, watching the dust rise from each of her steps. “I don’t know…just never seen one.”
Eugene rolled his eyes, finding that hard to believe. “Sure…whatever, kid.”
He took another deep breath as she appeared to quiet down for a moment, giving him a second of peace. Maybe she was just a curious girl that wandered too far from her pa. She’d go away sooner than later.
“What’s up with your eyes, mister?”
The bounty hunter sighed, feeling as if he might strangle the little thing if she said one more goddamn word. “Whaddya mean? I ain’t blind.”
“No, I mean the color,” the child corrected, looking into Eugene’s eyes intently. “They look brown, but something’s wrong with…the one.”
“Ah, ya mean my funky one?” Eugene couldn’t help but smile at that, finding her question ever so slightly amusing. “I don’ really know, kid…jus’ been that way since I was a babe. They’re strange, that’s for sure.”
“I think they’re pretty,” the girl said earnestly, as if she actually meant it.
The outlaw scoffed. “Ya’d be the first, kid. Now why don’t ya go on and run off?”
Frowning, the girl stopped, lip pursing in thought. Her head lowered a little, and was finally quiet, though the silence unsettled Eugene. She seemed like a wobblin’ jaw, so when she finally had a break from yappin’, it gave cause for concern. “Somethin’ wrong, kid?”
“I’m…lost, mister,” she finally admitted, eyes on the ground in shame, “Could you help me find my way back home?”
Running a hand through his hair, Eugene sighed, tired and frustrated. “I…I dunno, kid, I-I’m kinda lookin’ for someone right now. I gotta do a job, ya see-”
The kid’s eyes light up at that, the smile returning to her face. “Ooh, maybe I can help you! I’m good at finding things!”
“‘Cept for yer home?”
She frowned again, thinking that over. “Well…except for my home. But, maybe if I help you find who you’re looking for, you can help me find my home.”
He smirked at that, finding the idea that a kid would help him find who he assumed was a wanted criminal quite amusing. But it couldn’t hurt, and she seemed like she’d be more help than the drunks in that bar…
“Why not,” Eugene mumbled, crossing his arms. “Alright. I’m lookin’ for a woman, alright? Now, I don’t know if she’s lost, or dangerous, so ya gotta promise me you’ll be careful, alright?”
“Alright,” the girl nodded her head eagerly. Well, she may be talking again, but at least she didn’t look so quiet and sad. He didn’t know why, but something about this girl seemed strangely familiar, like a dream from long ago…
But he pushed that aside for now.
“So what’s this woman’s name?” the kid asked curiously, looking up at Eugene with those big eyes again, and he felt something in his heart clench. Maybe he was just annoyed at her getting so excited for something so simple.
“Clara Williams,” the outlaw responded, “Now, I don’t know what she did, but she’s wanted for a lot o’ money-”
He paused when the girl stopped again, though this time her eyes were wide with surprise.
“What is it?” Eugene asked, eyebrows furrowing in concern, “Ya alright, kid?”
“Clara Williams…” the girl whispered, “Well, mister, you don’t have to look far.”
He tilted his head, confused. “What?”
“You don’t have to go far,” the kid repeated, looking up at Eugene. “My name’s Clara Williams."133Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡqGqhdPXxWF
