Part One - New in town
As he had done for the past few weeks, Bill stumbled down the stairs that connected the room he was staying in with the bar he spent most of the day at. The creaking of the stairs at least helped silence the creaking his old bones made nowadays, as he found his way down and promptly sat himself on an unoccupied stool in the bar.
The bartender knew him well enough by now that no words were needed between them, and sure enough Bill soon had a drink in front of him. Wasting away in a small town most people never heard of was definitely not how he had envisioned his last years going down, but losing most of the money he had amassed over the years while running away from the law had put a dent in his retirement plans.
Thinking of the past was all he found some semblance of joy in these days, even though he knew his former friends probably didn't remember him with such fondness. So lost he was in his thoughts and his drink, he almost did not notice as a beautiful, raven-haired young woman in an expensive looking dress entered the establishment and sat herself next to him. She ordered something Bill had never heard of before and looked at him curiously, making him realize he had been staring.
Turning his attention back to his drink, he wondered what such a woman was doing her. She was certainly much more seemly than any of the women he had been with and looked young enough to be his daughter, but he wasn't one to let small details get in the way.
"I hope you'll forgive my unwanted attentions my lady, we are not used to young ladies like yourself in our little town so we're, heh, we're probably bound to ogle a little bit," he said in an almost fatherly tone.
The woman seemed taken aback by the sudden conversation, but to her credit she composed herself fairly quickly. "Not to worry mister, I'm no stranger to unwanted attention from men but rest assured that was not the case in this instance," she responded with a smile, immediately sending butterflies up Bill's stomach.
"If you don't mind me asking, what is a woman like you doing in a place like this? Not many people come through San Isidro unless the have business here or," he paused for a second, considering the implications, "unless they're heading towards El paso de fuego, which seems even more unlikely in your case."
The woman let out a small giggle. "Well, I'm certainly not headed to that accursed place," she said, as though relieved, "which I guess means I'm here for business. I'm trying to become a supplier for this very bar, in fact!" she continued with palpable excitement.
"Is that so?" Bill asked with feigned interest. "So that means one day I might be drinking your product in here?"
"That's the idea! But it's not as easy as I'd like."
"I'm sure there's not much you don't find easy, my lady. You look like a capable woman."
She blushed, and answered as she stirred her drink, "Thank you for your kind words, but I'm afraid I don't always make the best choices. My name is Beatrice, by the way."
"William," he answered without taking his eyes off her.
"Say, William, I have some samples of my product back in the room I've been given while I stay to iron out the details of the deal. Perhaps," she said as she placed a delicate hand on the man's arm, "you'd like to come over and give them a taste test?"
Bill thought he had to be dreaming. He wouldn't say he had ever had trouble with women in his younger years, but he had never had such luck with such a woman as this Beatrice. Perhaps on a clearer day he might have had second thoughts about this, but at his age, after all the time he had slept by himself and the sheer allure of the well-dressed woman sitting next to him he wasn't about to turn down such an offer.
Before he could answer, however, the doors of the building opened suddenly, making way for a man, younger than Bill, with long hair and well-kept clothes. A rugged appearance and an easily recognizable walk clued Bill in to the fact the man was an outlaw, and his light brown skin and coarse dark hair identified him as a Mexican, likely a member of one of the many bands of outlaws that fled northwest when the plague all but destroyed their country.
Bill knew his kind well, but even he had to admit this man was not quite like the others he had known in his time. It was hard to describe it, but to men who lived outside the law like Bill it was somewhat easy to distinguish between common criminals and hardened killers. This man had the look of the latter, and he somehow managed to look dangerous without having said or done anything. The man made instant eye contact with Bill as soon as he entered, and moved to sit himself on the other side of Beatrice, making her the only thing between the two men. Beatrice seemed uncomfortable, and Bill was certainly annoyed.
Before long, the newcomer spoke up, his voice devoid of the accent Bill was expecting. "It is you, isn't it?"
His voice was deep and rough, the kind of voice that makes you uncomfortable without really knowing why. "Bill Villiers. I've heard about you."
Bill turned back to his drink, and didn't look at the man as he spoke. "Can't say I've heard anything about you," he said coldly, eleciting a barely audible laugh from the newly arrived man.
"Not surprising, I'm just started on making a name for myself. But I met some old boys back in New Leipzig, boys who said they used to ride with you back in the day. They told me some things about you. Interesting things," he said looking intently at Bill.
"That so? What did they tell you?"
"I'm guessing they don't like you too much, because they had quite a lot to say," he said with a chuckle. "They said you were a bad son of a bitch back in the day, a bit of a ladies man too. They said they never saw a man who could beat you to the draw."
Bill looked at Beatrice, who had gone quiet and seemed nervous at the arrival of this man. He took a long swig of his drink, and put his glass down on the table."And you still felt the need to come here looking for me?"
"Oh, don't get the wrong idea old timer. I'm not some kind of gunslinger looking for the meanest shooters in the west or something like that. No, I'm here because of something else they told me. See, those boys were very disappointed in you, because you ran off on them with something of theirs. A bunch of notes they had on something that was hidden around this part of the country many years ago."
Bill seemed to tense up. "I don't know what you're talking about."
The man shaked his head. "Ah, see, I think you do. And I'd very much like to see those notes. I'm something of a treasure hunter myself, and those notes are clearly valuable, else you wouldn't have risked pissing off your old buddies to get them."
"Listen buddy, I was in the middle of something when you walked in here, and you're upsetting the lady here. I don't know you, and I don't know what the hell you're talking about. So how about we walk outside, handle this the way men like us do. If you kill me you can search my corpse for whatever it is you think I have and if I kill you I free myself of your annoying presence and get back to my busines," Bill said, finally looking straight at the man since ther conversation began.
Just then, a young boy ran into the bar, worry across his face "Sorry to interrupt, but some merchants just - " he started before he was cut off by the mexican outlaw.
"Quiet boy, we're in the middle of something here," he said holding a finger up. His tone was intimidating enough that the boy went quiet immediately. He looked at Bill, as if studying him. He smiled. "Nah. I'm brave, and a little bit reckless, but I'm not stupid. If only half the stories I've heard of you are true, I'll be dead long before I can put a finger on my gun."
Bill scoffed. "But," the man continued, "If the other half of the stories about you are true, then I'm willing to bet that above all, you don't want the nice lady here to get hurt."
Bill did not have time to process the man's words before he was on top of Beatrice in a flash, putting an arm around her neck and poitning a quickly drawn revolver at him. Beatrice cried out in surprise, and was now close to crying as the man stepped back with her in his grasp. Bill stood up, and his first instinct was to reach for his gun, but he stopped when the gun that was pointed at him instead went to point at Beatrice's head.
"Ah-ah, hands up front big guy. Would hate to spill the nice lady's brains all over this nice floor."
The statement elicited another cry from Beatrice, who was now shaking and quivering. "P-please mister, don´t... don't hurt me," she pleaded.
"Well, that's up to our friend here. What do you say Bill? Gonna give me what I want?" he asked as he continued holding the struggling woman.
Bill kept his hands up, weighing his options. He didn't know what to do without risking Beatrice's life, and even if he somehow managed to keep her safe, there was no telling he would be able to beat this guy in a fight. He thought on the notes he had stolen. When he had taken them, he planned to use them to find the legendary treasure they supossedly described, but he soon found they were incomplete and vague, and thus gave up on finding it. Now that he was old and broke he was much less likely to go off searching for them, so he figured giving him the notes was probably the best he could do.
"Okay. Just don't hurt her. I'll give you the damned notes," he said as he moved a hand to his coat's pocket.
"Ah!" the man exclaimed while training his gun on Bill, who immediately put his hand back up.
"I was going for them," Bill said in an annoyed tone.
"You'll forgive me if I don't trust you reaching into pockets. But maybe the nice lady coud help with that," the man said while angling his face so he was speaking directly into Beatrice's ear, who shuddered under his voice.
"Go on darling, reach into his pocket and get me what I want."
Beatrice seemed frozen with fear. She slowly reached out a hand, but she was shaking so much it was difficult for her to do as she was asked. The man holding her hostage seemed annoyed at her, and he spoke out, "Come on woman, five minutes ago you couldn't wait to get into the old man's pants and now you're too shy to reach into his damn pocket?"
"I'm sorry, I'm," she let out before she was cut off by her captor. "Just do it!"
Scared, she quickly reached into Bill's coat and pulled out an assortment of papers bound together by a piece of string. The outlaw used his hand to take them, without taking his arm away from her neck and keeping his gun in Bill's direction. Unwrapping them with one hand was not very easy, but he managed and soon had the notes in front of him. He let out a sigh.
"They're just... words and stuff?" he asked.
"What the hell did you expect?"
"I don't know, some maps or drawings, some kind of diagram maybe."
"Can't you read?" asked Bill in a mocking tone.
"As a matter of fact, I can't. But I bet our lovely lady friend can. What do you say beautiful, care to help me figure out what the hell this says?"
She seemed less scared than before, but she was still shaking and a permanent look of fear was stamped on her face. "Yes," she said quietly. The so-called treasure hunter put the papers on her hand.
"Go on sweetheart, take a look at what we've got."
Beatrice took the papers to eye level, and in an instant her demeanor shifted completely. She stopped shaking, and she almost seemed to relax in the man's grasp. Her face changed from fear to one of abject concentration as she looked the papers over. Her captor, never once losing his smile, continued with his gun trained on Bill's direction, as the latter looked at Beatrice's change of behaviour with slight confusion.
Suddenly Beatrice spoke up, surprisingly, with an exasperated tone. "This is bullshit."
"What?" asked Bill with genuine shock at the woman's words. The mexican gunman simply sighed.
"None of this is useful," continued the woman, "Most of it we already have from the other notes and the rest are just inane ramblings. This was a waste of time."
"Well, that's too bad," the man said while shaking his head.
Bill was beyond confused. "What is going on?"
The woman let out a loud sigh. "He's useless," she said as she casually left the man's grasp and grabbed the gun he had been pointing at Bill. Before Bill could say anything, "Beatrice" put several bullets in his chest. Bill fell backwards, knocking down several stools as he fell, the same look of shock at the sudden revelation still etched into his dead face. The few patrons who hadn't left when trouble began ran outside at the discharge of the gun, save for the boy who had walked in in the middle of it, who was still at the door, frozen in place. The man turned to him.
"I'm sorry, I interrupted you earlier. What did you have to say?" he spoke calmly.
The boy stuttered and stammered, unable to get the words out, much to the outlaw's annoyance. "Speak up boy, I don't have time to decipher your grunts."
He cleared his throat, and to his credit managed to speak over his fear. "Uh, I was just... um, some merchants passed through and - and, uh told me to warn pe-people that a gang of outlaws was on it's way here."
"That so? Which gang?" asked the woman.
"They... they said it was José Ortíz and his men."
"Well, shit," said the man.
"Alonso," said the woman as she moved closer to him, placing both her hands on his shoulders, "We knew he wouldn't stop coming for us after we stole those maps and notes from him. We're not going to stop now. We can take anything he throws at us. Together."
Alonso looked up. "Do you still have those notes, Julia?"
"I sure do."
"Where?"
"Somewhere only you've seen," she answered with a grin. Alonso couldn't help but laugh. He pulled her in close, kissing her passionately. She put her arms around his neck, answering in kind. They broke off, both smiling like little kids.
"Let's blow this fucking town," Alonso said with barely contained excitement.
