The room was loud when the fugitive walked into the saloon in the little town of Hidden River.
He was a good looking man, with light tanned skin from the blazing sun and dark hair that was dripping wet from the rain. The rain was falling down hard that evening on the dirt road that left his boots muddy. They made a gushing sound with each step he took towards the counter of the bar where the male bartender was cleaning a mug with a white cloth.
He was a fairly stout man with a dark moustache and a shiny bald head. He wore a white butcher’s apron with a black short sleeved shirt underneath. A cigar hung out of his mouth as his brown eyes lifted towards his most recent customer. He smirked and then turned to put the mug away. The wanted criminal tried to look unbothered by the stares from behind him that stabbed his back like daggers. They all knew who he was, and because of this the bar was shushed, and the band on the stage quieted their acoustic guitars.
He sat on the stool with his legs apart because they were too long to fit between the stool that was nailed to the floor and the counter. The bartender came back and looked the man in the eyes as if to intimidate him.
“What are you doing here, criminal,” The bartender asked, then spat. It landed on the area of the counter that was right in front of the fugitive just missing his right hand. The bartender continued to stare, and he stared back at the bartender unmoved by his actions.
“Just a swill of ale will do me just fine,” The man answered with a grin, setting an expensive looking ring on the counter. The bartender took the ring, and turned to get the man’s drink.
From behind the fugitive, he could hear whispers of the other customers. One in particular was from a man sitting down the bar counter from him. He kept glancing in his direction while saying to his brunette girlfriend rumours of things that the man could only dream of doing. He didn’t have to do much to get such a reputation in this small town.
The bartender sneered as he slid the beer down the counter. The fugitive caught it before is flew past him out of reach. He opened it and took a swig.
From the corner of his other eye he saw a woman observing him. She had long wavy blonde hair that almost reached her waist. Her eyes were an unnatural blue, and her pink sleeveless top lined with black lace was more like lingerie than anything. He took a glance over at her. She quickly turned away, but a smirk started to grow on her face. The man rolled his eyes, took his ale, and turned around to leave.
His eyes then went wide.
The saloon was now more silent than it have ever been.
Three men stood, the door behind them still swinging from their arrival. The middle man was bald with a clean shaven face. He was large, but not the fatty kind. Underneath his large black trench coat and grey shirt he wore underneath were probably muscle after muscle from serious training. A belt slung across his shoulder and around his waist covered completely with bullets for his giant machine gun that hung on his back.
The man on his right had both sides of his head shaven leaving a strip of blonde hair. He wore a leather jacket with no shirt underneath revealing his muscular stomach. He pulled from the pockets of his baggy pants two revolvers and he cocked them, trying to intimidate the fugitive.
He smirked at this attempt.
The last had long auburn hair that covered most of his face. He too had two revolver guns drawn, but was wearing a white beater, and black leather pants.
Men and women sitting in their booths and at the counter fidgeted in their seats knowing there was no escape from what was about to happen.
The fugitive slid off the bar stool and stood up and walked towards the three men. The now dried mud on his boots left crumbs of dirt where they hit the floor.
“Can I help you boys?” The fugitive asked with a smile. The middle man took a step forward.
“What are you doing here Samuel,” He demanded. His voice was deep and seemed to shake the whole saloon.
A whimper from a little boy could be heard as he hid behind his mother’s arm. Her hand came on the child’s head, and the other on his back in hopes of comforting, although she was also trembling.
“I could ask you the same question,” Samuel responded, running his hand through his dark curls. The middle man sneered and turned to the other man with the auburn hair. They both stared at each other and nodded. The bald man then turned to the fugitive.
“Answer the question,” He said, crossing his arms awaiting for his response.
“Just thought I’d stop in and visit all my old friends,” the whole bar was shaken by this. They stared at him with hatred and disbelief.
“You have no friends, Sam. You aren’t welcome here,” The room almost seemed to shrink, as all eyes were focused on the fugitive and his response.
He smiled and then said, “Well I guess I’ll leave then,” Looking at the floor. He then started walking towards the door but then he felt a hand come down onto his shoulder.
“Not so fast,” The bald man said. Samuel then looked at him. They were about the same height, but the fugitive was in no comparison to the muscle build. Samuel gave out a moan removing the abnormally large hand from his shoulder.
“Pay up,” The man said offering out his palm. Samuel looked at it, and then back at the bald man’s face.
“I’m broke.” He said with a shrug. The bald man then gave out a deep roaring laugh that filled the saloon, and made some ears start to ring.
“Don’t kid yourself; a man like you is never broke,”
“That may be true, but I am now,” The bald man’s mocking smile was now replaced with a look of frustration.
“You aren’t leaving this saloon, until I see some coin,” He took a step closer to Sam, and almost seemed to tower over him. Sam felt a lump start to grow in his throat, and he swallowed.
“I’ll pay for him,” A woman said.
Samuel turned around, and saw the blonde slide off her bar stool and walked towards the scene; her black stilettos clanking as she walked. She stopped when she was right beside Sam. The bald man looked her down, and then smirked.
“Well… if you’re paying…” He said, his smirk growing, “how about you just show me a good time, and we’ll talk,” He said with a wink.
Her face wanted to scrunch up into a scowl, but instead she flung her blonde hair behind her shoulders. She heavily considered this, mostly because she spoke without thinking. If she could hardly even get enough to eat, how is she supposed to pay off some fugitive’s debt? She put her hand on the man’s shoulder, and it slid it down his arm.
“I guess that could work,” she said with a smirk. He began to smile, and then he looked over to Samuel to say something,
but he was gone.
The middle man turned to the doors to see them swinging back and forth. Outside the rain had stopped, and he could see a black shadow on a motorcycle, trying to make a quick getaway.
“THAT BASTARD,” The bald man roared. A roar that made the customers in the saloon quiver, “GET HIM,”
With that being said, they ran out of the bar, and climbed on their motorcycles and chased after him. Mud and dust was kicked up behind their tires, as they drove off chasing after the fugitive. Samuel looked behind him in shock to see that the three men were gaining on him. He heard one of the men’s guns go off in an attempt to hit him. He heard more, and panic started to rise in his chest. He leaned forward and squeezed down harder on the throttle. His motorcycle roared as it gained speed.
He looked behind him once more to see the three men were now getting farther away from him. He smiled contently to himself, and faced forward once again. The welcoming sign in to that desert town flew by him, and were said good bye to by his coat tail flying out behind him. The three men gave up on their pursuit bringing their vehicles to a halt.
The bald man stared at Samuel as he got farther and farther out of reach. He shook his head, and turned his motorcycle around back towards the town. The other two men followed him with a shake of their heads. Samuel laughed to himself leaning forward more making the motorcycle go even faster.