Spurs n Shotguns

Day One

Authors & Characters:
- Skonk (Jason/Jay & Drunk stranger)
- Bowie (Lesley)
- Patjakker (Travis)
- Tod (Claude)
- Juno (Patrick)

Skonk:

The sun's golden light dripped steadily behind the horizon textured with the mountain ranges in which Jay familiarised as the protective borders of his home land.
He wasn't a religious man, he found all belief in a higher power to be a load of shit, however he'd find himself staring up at the still peaks and talk to them through a silent communication borne of his red heart.

The young man turned his head, his gloved hands tightening on leather reigns, signalling his horse to a stop.
From atop the ridge he was bound to move downwards, Jay overlooked the town readying themselves for the end of daylight. Footsteps and hoof trots alike, kicked up small clouds of orange dust, an offering to the breeze that whisked it across the dirt roads to let all know of a dry night. Beneath the sound of his horse's bit clinking as it chewed, he'd hear the calls of business owners, those closing the retail stores, and those opening to welcome in those who wish to quench their sobrieties.
Jay looked back up to the mountains, the rich orange circle sliding until it was no more except for the final spurt of pink that snaked around the entire skyline. A few stars would appear, shy of the sun's last moments of presence.
His horse's ears flickered forwards and to the sides, occasionally throwing its head and stamping a foot, impatient at the wait as it too deeply understood the closeness of home. To a warm stable beside good friends, and fresh hay to fill its belly. Jay leant down and patted the horse's neck, the impact sending thin plumes of dust that had been settled in the chestnut fur. He clicked his tongue and gently squeezed his legs into the horse's flanks. It didn't need another single to set off in a march, down the slope in which Jay would lean back into his saddle and stirrups, offering comfort to the animal that carried him.
To get home, he'd have to pass through the town, and a drink was always welcome to his gut.

Bowie:

Right near the heart of the small town, a warmly lit saloon was beginning to liven up with tired workers and passers by. It was clearly a dearly and thoroughly loved place, with the wood slightly worn and the floorboards creaky, the smell of cigarette smoke burnt into the walls and ceiling, permeating the room at all times. Soft music was played by expert fingers as a means of atmosphere on an ever dusty piano in the far corner.

A young woman was tending the bar. A favour to the owner as he was out of town for the time being. Despite not having the personal connection to the public as the Saloon's usual tender, her charisma quickly established who in the crowd she was adored by, and who she annoyed. It bothered her none, Lesley was there only for the money.

She leaned her elbows on the wooden counter, deep in conversation with an elder townsperson about his fantastical, and most likely fake adventures from when he was a young man, her lips cocked into a smirk as she multitasked, occasionally glancing from him, to other customers, to the glass in her hand in which she was cleaning with a cloth.

Skonk:

Nearing the borders of the town, Jay unhooked his feet from the stirrups and swung a leg up and over the horse's rear so that he'd slide off with ease and land neatly into the earth. The horse let out a deep huff, receiving a pat against its chest. Jay pulled the reins over its head, holding firmly below its chin with one hand, the other wrapping up the end of loose leather. He led the animal, its head held beside him as he walked down the road, occasionally nodding to those who greeted him as a regular passerby. Usually, he'd stop and have a chat, always enjoying the presence of others, but today Jay was tired. Dust had caked against his skin, matted down in a film coating by the sweat he'd produce beneath the blazing sun. It punctuated the lines of his eyelids and the crease of skin that made the nooks of his nostrils. He'd look a decade older. He tethered the horse to a fence line beside a couple of others, all ears relaxed to the sides and a rear leg held lazily against the tip of its hoof. Uneventful, his world seemed to be when he doesn't count the load of constant work. However, an exciting season of wild horses were coming about where colts and fillies became yearlings, their legs growing strong into their large knees. Jay massaged his thighs, feeling the stiffness of muscle which ached beneath pressure.
"I'll be gone for just one." He reassured the horse, giving a scratch behind those lovely brown ears.