[UNFINISHED] Unnamed Cowboy Story

[THIS TAKES PLACE IN RED DEAD REDEMPTION 2. I LOVE THIS GAME :( CW: There is mention of alcohol.]

"Speak now. So, what's the catch here?” he asked me. I could tell he was nervous by the way he jittered his fingers, by the way his knees bounced, and how he was searching the room. I'd just made a deal; I'll admit, it wasn't a good one, but one nonetheless. 

“There isn’t one,” I replied, leaning back into my chair. We were sitting in a rundown bar that smelled of nothing but lite beer and a little bit of overcooked food. This definitely was not a place I would like to establish a deal, but I went with it nonetheless. I was a man of a strict code usually, but somehow this idiot charmed me into meeting here. My thoughts were distracted when the brute of a character slammed his fists down on the table, causing me to raise my brows in surprise.

“I know there’s something up with you, Cartier, and I am going to get to the bottom of it. You.. You are nothing but a liar,” he growled at me, some pieces of spit flying everywhere. Ignoring my disgust by both the spit and the smell of his breath, I slightly turned my head to the side, trying to hide my face. I’m Gray Cartier, a private investigator. Calling me by my last name isn’t the most respectful way to refer to me, but I’ll let it slide. Besides, this monster of a man could tear me into two without a doubt.

“Why would there be?” I asked as I mindlessly slid my chair back, trying to get out of his miasma. I could finally breathe when the stench of alcohol filled my senses, though it wasn’t the most desirable. “I have nothing to hide.”

“The deal’s off, Cartier, I’m going home. I know you’re here to set me up for failure, and you’re not going to drag me into your little charade here,” he growled once more before standing up aggressively and made his way over to the bar’s exit. Did this idiot just try to scam me? It’s too late for me to pursue him; he’s already lost himself in another bar, getting drunk at the thought of leaving me here in a daze. 

“Thanks, ma’am,” I called out to the bartender as I offered a short wave. I had left a couple dollars on the table for our drinks, and a couple extra to force this poor woman to wait on that idiot of a man. I walked out of the saloon, and I’m immediately hit with the feeling of death. This wasn’t a feeling I experienced often, but when I did, it usually was correct. I walked down the porch of the saloon, and unhitched my horse. She pinned her ears back in surprise, but lost the attitude once I mounted onto the saddle. 

I couldn’t shake the feeling of death even though everyone in this town seemed to be moving along rather smoothly, as per usual. Strawberry was always a calm little town that hardly held any crime, and when it did, it was just some petty theft or disturbance of the peace. Not today, though, because I knew something was different. I clicked my tongue and lightly squeezed my legs to get my horse into a slow trot as I took in Strawberry’s scenery. Before long, I was heading down to Valentine, a small western town that was as selfless, if not more, than Strawberry. The ride to Valentine was more beautiful than anything around here, as it was mostly virgin land that has not been destroyed by human hand. Before I knew it, I saw the bustling town coming over the horizon.

Valentine had its own distinct smell, and it wasn't because of the sheep manure or the smell of the steam engine. It was a more comforting smell; it truly did remind me of home at some point in time. I had grown up in Valentine, so I had learned to appreciate its beauty for what it was, even though it was a little rough around its edges. Besides the seemingly always muddied paths from who-knows-what, it was a beautiful little town that everyone and their mother knew. As I rode in, a couple of people who I have never seen in my 32 years of life, greeted me. I was glad to see that Valentine hasn't changed, not one bit. I smiled and nodded back to them as I approached the saloon, hitching my horse up front. I was an avid drinker, but I never got drunk fast. Not at least until I met this bartender. I walked inside, and was hit heavily by an unfamiliar scent, which made me grimace some. It was definitely alcohol, yes, but it was some of the strongest I've ever smelled.

I sat myself at a table as I let the stench fill my senses. It was evident I was not going to get used to it for a moment, so I approached the bar and leaned on it. The bartender was a young-looking man who had seen a few things in his time, especially with that big scar across his face. I assumed it was from a bear, but who was I to assume? He gave me a friendly smile as he set his whiskey glass down.

"What can I get you?” he asked. Just by the way he spoke, I could tell he was not from the area or he was educated. This was only because he spoke in full sentences, as Valentine folk usually don't… do that. 

"Whatever the hell I can smell in here,” I said with a smirk. I always found myself to be a funny guy, and this was reinforced by the fact the bartender laughed and shook his head.

“Really? It’s absinthe. Even I can barely muster it,” he said as he found a shot glass.

“I’ve heard of it. Well, give me some. It’s been a hell of a day.” At this, the bartender nodded and poured some kind of green liquid. To be fair, it looked absolutely horrible. I shot a quick glance at the tender, seemingly questioning him with my eyes. “That’s what I’m drinking? It looks…” I trailed off as the bartender nodded, seeming to understand what my opinion was.

“I can just hand it off to the guy over there. He drinks alcohol like a horse,” he said once he noticed my reluctance. I nodded, giving him permission.