American Vagrant: A Pulp

chapter:two

the room joe got was bleak. rickety chairs, moldy ceilings and stale air were never ideal for vagrants.

nevertheless, joe had to make do. he emptied his items onto an old mahogany table north to the door: compass, a bag of gold, a seperate bag of bullets, canteen. he grabbed a nearby chair, dragged it to the front of the table and slumped over it, closing his eyes.

so many assholes to shoot up, joe thought to himself. some real dirty town right here.

this hadn't been the first town where joe had been greeted with bullets. but it was the first town joe had been recognised in.

they called me something else, though. if there is a "Kane", it sure as hell ain't me, joe thought as he drifted back to those peculiar events...

_______________________________
20 minutes earlier...

joe's boots jingled as he trudged into the village. the walls of the buildings were chipped and flaked if you ran your fingers over them. the evening was turning into night, and the heat eased as such. he had hoped to settle down with drinks and rest.

to the chagrin of wanderers like him, trouble always followed.

"hey you!" a scratchy voice hollered.

joe turned around and saw two men approaching him. one made confident strides and the other had a slight limp to his gait. part of him urged to walk on into the nearby salloon,while the stronger part anchored him to the ground.

he squinted at the men. "something's the matter?"

their trail ended at arm's length, and they returned his gaze.

"oh,nothing..." the limping man huffed. "nothing at all...Kane."

"Kane?" joe echoed.

the men's glares turned icier.

"i think you got the wrong guy." joe said.

"of course you'd say that." the man with the scratchy voice pulled out his revolver.

in an instant all three men were armed. joe held his gun by his waist.

"this is a losing battle for you, Kane!"

"put the gun down!"

joe relented for a moment. then, he slowly leaned forward to lay his gun down... suddenly, he swept his hands upwards and sprayed sand at their faces.

the men screamed and rubbed their eyes.

joe threw himself to the floor and cocked his revovler upwards, his left wrist guiding the paths of the killing bullets.

blao. blao.

two shots, square in the chests for both men. they collapsed instantly, eyes wide and red from the shock of having their breath taken. joe sighed and took his hat off to fan the dust away.

back to the saloon he went.

joe stepped into the saloon wearily, ignoring the glances the other customers were giving. he shuffled into a stool at the front counter, opposite the bartender.

"drink?" the bartender uttered in a monotone voice.

"whiskey." joe fumbled in his pockets for spare change.

he dumped all the coins he could find on the counter. the bartender shook his head and picked at it scowling.

"got a lot of change, dont'cha?" a leering voice creeped behind joe.

joe turned around and peered at the man who said that. he had an unkempt haircut and messy grey beard, and his smile revealed he had only six or so teeth left. his cheeky smile scrunched the top of his face, making his eyes squint and the wrinkles on his face much more prominent.

"do ya need it?" joe asked, continuing his gaze at the old man.

"yeh..." the old man scratched his head sheepishly. "am a bit thirsty."

"is whiskey fine?"

"anything will do, really."

joe nodded. "a whiskey for the old feller." he gestured to the bartender, who poured a shot in no time.

"thank you, lad. where you from?" the old man cusped the filled shotglass with gratitude.

"north carolina."

"the name's Murphy. everyone 'round here call me Old Murphy. you know, i'm plenty jealous of you young folk. if i had money, i'd be travelling 'round the world too."

joe smirked. "it ain't all it's cracked out to be, if you know what i mean. i don't got much myself."

"ah well." Murphy emptied the glass in one swig and sighed. "it is what it is..."

"say, Murphy, what do you do?"

"i run a shop. but i ain't sellin' much no more."

joe frowned. "that don't sound right."

"peh, its that Graver fellow, he thinks he's a big man and can rule the town. no one likes him, but he got some big arms on his side." Murphy grimaced so hard his teeth were almost rattling. "first he shut down the boutique, then he took the arms store."

"they been chasing my customers away. now with no one to buy my products, i been running out of funds." he shook his fist gravely. "if only i could give that Graver fellow a lesson, that son of a-"

before he could finish, Murphy was shoved aside.

"look who we got here, running bad press for the boss." a low voice rumbled, followed by a cacophony of shrieking laughter.

it was Graver's goons!

joe tensed slightly. they had overheard the conversation, and now they were looking for trouble...

this could not end well.