I'd seen a hundred like him before; so when the door of the tavern swung open on that bleak night and another want to be hunter barged in, I barely looked up. Just as I thought he would be, the man was under-dressed for the harsh winter weather of Northern Canada. The clothes he did have on were all new and crisp, and the scarf he he had thrown around his neck was bright and cheery.
Like myself, the other patrons in the bar were uninterested in the newcomer and wanted nothing to do with him. Unfortunately, he had other ideas.
"Hello." He spoke in a clear voice with a slight drawl, one that was definitely not native to our country.
Everyone stared needles into their beers, but the man took no notice and laid a dollar bill onto the bar with his beefy hand.
"Give me the strongest you got," he told the barkeep, who quickly poured a drink and sat it before the stranger.
The man downed the drink in one swallow with no sign of a wince at its sharpness. This made us all soften because we had all seen tougher men than he fall into coughing fits when taking just a sip of Jack's special brew.
"What're you doing here, stranger?" I asked him.
"The name's Harvey," the stranger said.
"What're you doing here, Harvey?" I repeated my question with the slight amendment.
"Looking for a guide."
"What fer?" Jack, the bartender, took a turn at the questioning.
"I aim to bag me some game and furs to take back home."
"Ain't nobody here that'll take you out, " I told him. "Wrong time of year to go hunting around these parts in the winter season."
"I appreciate your candor, Mister, but where I come from, when you set out to do somethin' you do it, even if it kills you."
"Great, another redneck," Jack muttered.
Harvey ignored him. "Won't any of you be willing to guide me through the woods? I'm willing to pay handsomely for it."
Once again we all stared into our mugs, avoiding the stranger's gaze. All of us that is except for Iago, (a Native, but nobody knew what tribe he hailed from) with six children and a bad drinking problem. Iago raised his hand and stuttered, "I-I-I'll take y-y-you."
"I knew I'd find somebody! Well, come on, son, let's go." Harvey used the term "son" even though Iago was at least twenty years his senior.
The two of them left and we forgot about the incident; out here to forget your troubles, you bury your mind in work and the little things get pushed to the side.
