Another Friday Night
Full-moons are always busy at the Dollar.
I been runnin’ the Silver Dollar Saloon for three years now. Every month it’s the same old story, and last Friday weren’t no different. Wanda, the only whore left in these parts, was doing her normal song and dance, trying to drum up business. Hell, everybody in town’s already had a taste of what she’s sellin’, and most of ‘em would rather spend their money on booze. The Gatney brothers were playing poker and Henry was bangin’ away on the piano in the corner.
I was pourin’ more beer than I wanted, but the whiskey drinkers didn’t show up until after sundown.
I had no more than got the lanterns lit, when Jose Ramirez and his boys came bustin’ through the batwings, bigger than life. The Gatney’s stopped their card game in mid-shuffle and Henry froze, his fingers floatin’ over the keys.
“I don’t want no trouble in here tonight,” I says, layin' old Betsy on the bar, with the business end pointed toward the roughnecks in sombreros.
“Who, us?” Jose laughed his donkey bray. “Drinks are on us tonight, senhor.”
He sauntered up to the bar and peeled three five dollar notes from a stack of at least thirty in his pocket. I knew right then, there was gonna be trouble. His crew were all strapped with bandaleros of ammunition and they were each packing a pair of six shooters at their hips.
I’m a businessman first, and where they mighta come up with the cash wasn’t none of my never-mind. I looked up and raised my voice. “Drinks are on Mr. Ramirez, fellas!”
Henry began playing again, and the Gatneys resumed their game of Texas draw. I started to pour shots for Jose and his crew, but he waved me off, and grabbed the bottle of corn-whiskey from me.
“This’ll do for a start.” He made his way to the table in the corner, and his boys followed him.
That was when I heard the doors squeak again, and the sharp intake of breath from Wanda was quickly followed by the sounds of scrambling as the Gatneys and Henry all made their way to an exit.
It was the sheriff.
I knew it was gonna be a long night, and something told me either the sawbones or the undertaker were gonna be busy tomorrow.
© 2019 dustygrein