A “Dirty” Town

Hello, I am a traveler whose habit is to move from town to town in the vast mysteries of Texas. I travel alone and stay out of touch with others. My name is of no importance. Being address numerous amount of times as ‘that guy’ doesn’t bother me one bit. I have in my possession nothing more than a pistol and some money; not somebody worth robbing. I am traveling in the bright beaming sun; the straw hat I wear protects me from the intense heat. According to my senses, I should be hitting a town soon.

By noon, I sighted the outskirts to what looked like a small civilization. I was expecting a little more from my long stroll over here, but this will have to do for now. I walked into town, I moved with rows of houses on either sides of me. I looked around to find that the walkway was entirely empty. It looked like the place was abandon, but I knew it was not. I could hear voices from within the wooden shacks. They were silent, almost muted, but I caught the voices. I was declaring that this place seems like trouble or maybe it was in trouble. I look ahead to see if I can get in contact with anyone. There were people on the porches. Some of them look able to tell me some answers while others weren’t, like fast asleep. I could have asked the person I just passed to my right, but I decided against it. Instead, I headed on over to the bar in front of me. That looks like the legit place to find out news about this run-down place.

I slide into the double doors; the bar was unexpectedly almost deserted. There were only three people inside, counting myself. One was the barmaid whom was hiding behind the counter for something reasons, as soon as she saw me; she rose out of her hiding place. The other was some hopeless slob in the corner table. He looked fed up with his alcohol and ready to slide off his chair. Alcohol is fine for my taste, too much will be your fall. The barmaid and I exchanged a stare and I shook my hat in greeting. I went to sit down on one of the round seats in front of the counter. I flipped a coin to her and she knew the drill. She went to pour my drink over by a large barrel and placed it before me.

Before reaching for the drink, I called to her in order stop her from disappearing to the back storage room. I told her that I was new to this town and asked for a brief tour to this town. She introduces herself as Charity Hopewell and that she has been the town’s barmaid for almost ten years. She went on and pointed over to the other person that was present in the room. Hopewell told me that his name was Bob Sykes, the town’s drunk. He was awfully rich but he tends to degrade himself to drugs addictions. However, I was not interest this; I wanted to know more about the town. She looks at me strangely for a few seconds before closing in to my face. She whispered into my ear that this place is being terrorized. My suspicions were right. I immediately asked her what was amiss. She told me that an outlaw who calls himself “Dirty” Dan Murchism arrive not long before me. He was the toughest guy that has ever step foot to this town. He threatens the long established authority built around this place. All hope was lost when even the sheriff, John Brown, was intimidated by Murchism. The outlaw had blasted one of Brown’s feet off in their first encounter.

“Now everyone has stayed sheer clear from this monster,” Hopewell told me in a panicked voice. “Even yourself as a newcomer should well out of “Dirty” Dan Murchism’s way.”
Right when she was done, the double doors to the shack open again. A figure pushes his way into the bar. Hopewell ducks back under the counter and whispers to me, “It’s him!” The barmaid retreated into the back room while crouched down.

I looked at the outlaw, Dan Murchism, but sadly, he did not return my glance. So naturally, I was curious with his character. I approached him willingly. I pulled up my hat to let him see my face as I exchange a “hi.”

Murchism looked at me in distaste. The bar was silent except for the hiccups coming from Sykes in his oozing nap. For a second, I thought he didn’t look so bad. But that was before he pulls out a chain and shackles my hands behind me before I could reach for my pistol. Murchism pushed me hastily out of the bar and my hat fell off.

“He’s a goner!” Hopewell shouted as she peeked out from the room beyond.

Dan Murchism took me to a cliff side; below I could see the bottomless fall of my death trap. I turned to him and asked what the meaning of this was. He vaguely told me that he hated new travelers whom find their way into his town. We walked over to a thin platform that likes the shape of a diving board. He addressed me to go to the very tip and dive down into my death or else he would forcibly do it. What made him think that this town was his to take?

““Dirty” Dan will be the new sheriff for this town,” Murchism tells me out of the blue.

I looked at him, hatefully. “What makes you think you can be that “Dirty” Dan?”

“Cause I’m dirty,” he straighten himself up, shut his eyes, smiled and said that with pride.

There I took my chance and I kicked him squarely in the chest within his blindness. He was shocked as he felt himself tumbling down into the void below. I looked down to make sure he reached his proper destination before I headed back towards Hopewell’s bar.

“You’re alive…” Hopewell was confused when she saw me.

“The outlaw is gone, now this place can get back in law,” I picked up my fallen straw hat.

I adjusted my hat neatly on my head and placed a piece of weed into my mouth as I left the bar. And now, suddenly ‘that guy’ has just become the hero of this town.