DeletedUser
Tumbleweed returned to the saloon for his promised nightcap.
He entered this time with more confidence, as it was familiar to him. He noticed the same faces, doing nothing, and again, no ladies. Going to be a quick night, which is just as well he thought, it was a long ride to this town, and a long day regardless.
Sitting at the same booth, the barkeep offered the bottle of Canadian whiskey. Tumbleweed shook his head, requested brandy, French if he had it.
He just stared into his brandy glass, held it in both hands at the bar. He was thinking of all he had done in his life, and how long that life had been.
In the Army, he was trained as a sniper, as before he joined up, he was a good shot. When the War Between the States ended, he was sent to Europe and the Middle East, to do those type assignments as the U.S. Government deemed fit.
He never was ever face to face with his targets, they always were at a distance, for his own safety, mind you. It was nice to fire upon your target, knowing they were out of range to fire back.
Owning only 3 weapons, that is all he ever needed, and made a great living from it. His long-range rifle, his sawed off rifle which he carried at all times, and his special weapon, what the British called an elephant gun in Africa. What the caliber did not do, making his own bullets with mercury and lead, then a final dip in cyanide, would finish the job. Yes, he was good at his job. He got things done.
The meeting with the sheriff was mixed. The sheriff was somewhat frustrated in life, wanting to become a U.S. Marshall, but being in these parts, would not allow much training for it.
The sheriff laid the ground rules for 'his town' to Tumbleweed, and both agreed to the conditions. Tumble was to make a little money if he accepted the available bounties, perhaps spend some time with the ladyfolk in town, nothing serious, and depart. That was it. That was always just it. Nothing more. But he wanted more, was tired of town after town, picking up money, women, memories, and bringing death. Retirement was sounding kind of good right about now.
Tumbleweed thought of the available 'missions'. A few low-grade bandits on the loose, and more low-grade criminals, probably in Mexico or Canada by now. Jesse James was too common, Tumble always worked alone for efficiency, and usually killed off his competition.
But he remembered this one mission he heard of a while ago. It was a job that could set him up for life with a good retirement. The railroad and oil stocks were doing good, but one more great job, and I will be done, he thought. But it was so high level, it had to be right. He would never be able to work again if he did that job.
Well, he thought, I will decide tomorrow. Too many men in here, and with men it was business. With women, it was play, as each woman was a toy to play with, to cherish, to keep, if he really liked her.
In one huge gulp, he swallowed his brandy, set the glass down, and reached into his pocket to pay. The barkeep shook his head no. Tumbleweed thanked him, said goodnight, and walked off to the hotel to find a soft pillow...
He entered this time with more confidence, as it was familiar to him. He noticed the same faces, doing nothing, and again, no ladies. Going to be a quick night, which is just as well he thought, it was a long ride to this town, and a long day regardless.
Sitting at the same booth, the barkeep offered the bottle of Canadian whiskey. Tumbleweed shook his head, requested brandy, French if he had it.
He just stared into his brandy glass, held it in both hands at the bar. He was thinking of all he had done in his life, and how long that life had been.
In the Army, he was trained as a sniper, as before he joined up, he was a good shot. When the War Between the States ended, he was sent to Europe and the Middle East, to do those type assignments as the U.S. Government deemed fit.
He never was ever face to face with his targets, they always were at a distance, for his own safety, mind you. It was nice to fire upon your target, knowing they were out of range to fire back.
Owning only 3 weapons, that is all he ever needed, and made a great living from it. His long-range rifle, his sawed off rifle which he carried at all times, and his special weapon, what the British called an elephant gun in Africa. What the caliber did not do, making his own bullets with mercury and lead, then a final dip in cyanide, would finish the job. Yes, he was good at his job. He got things done.
The meeting with the sheriff was mixed. The sheriff was somewhat frustrated in life, wanting to become a U.S. Marshall, but being in these parts, would not allow much training for it.
The sheriff laid the ground rules for 'his town' to Tumbleweed, and both agreed to the conditions. Tumble was to make a little money if he accepted the available bounties, perhaps spend some time with the ladyfolk in town, nothing serious, and depart. That was it. That was always just it. Nothing more. But he wanted more, was tired of town after town, picking up money, women, memories, and bringing death. Retirement was sounding kind of good right about now.
Tumbleweed thought of the available 'missions'. A few low-grade bandits on the loose, and more low-grade criminals, probably in Mexico or Canada by now. Jesse James was too common, Tumble always worked alone for efficiency, and usually killed off his competition.
But he remembered this one mission he heard of a while ago. It was a job that could set him up for life with a good retirement. The railroad and oil stocks were doing good, but one more great job, and I will be done, he thought. But it was so high level, it had to be right. He would never be able to work again if he did that job.
Well, he thought, I will decide tomorrow. Too many men in here, and with men it was business. With women, it was play, as each woman was a toy to play with, to cherish, to keep, if he really liked her.
In one huge gulp, he swallowed his brandy, set the glass down, and reached into his pocket to pay. The barkeep shook his head no. Tumbleweed thanked him, said goodnight, and walked off to the hotel to find a soft pillow...