Valentine, Smithfield Tavern.
If there is any difference between the Smithfield Tavern at noon and the Tavern at night, it probably lacks the women who make a living at night and the men who specifically support those women. At this time, except for the drunkards who have even abandoned themselves and the gamblers who do not care about the day and night once the table is served, others only come to the tavern to have a hot meal.
Brandi and Raven were the normal homeless single men, both focused on their respective bowls of beef stew, while Calloway was the alcoholic type, focused on his own. Whiskey, as for the steaming large piece of beef in the bowl in front of him, he didn't even look at it.
The door of the tavern creaked again, a sound that everyone was used to hearing. Therefore, except for the bartender who had to receive guests, no one paid attention to who the guest was who opened the door this time.
Two men walked into the tavern, one white and one black.
The white man looked elegant, with gray hair, wearing a bright gray suit, and a well-dressed beard. Although he was not tall or strong enough, he exuded the air of being trained by a civilized society for many years. The temperament that comes out can firmly suppress all the sloppy and reckless people here who can't read a word.
Compared with the white man, the black man who was always half a body behind him was like the other extreme. He was wearing a black shotgun suit, and the body-fitting design perfectly highlighted the black man's tall but strong figure. Although there was no difference between him and the white man in terms of clothing, the black man naturally exuded His cold demeanor, the openly exposed gun belt, and the two large-caliber LeMat revolvers hanging on both sides of his waist all conveyed one fact to those who noticed him in the most direct way - he was not someone to be trifled with. .
The bartender naturally focused his attention on the more amiable white man. To be honest, the black man's temperament was indeed too scary. Seeing that the two of them had already walked to the bar, the bartender took out two glasses and placed them in front of them, and filled them with two glasses of whiskey.
"Thank you for your hospitality, sir," the white man smiled very politely, then picked up the cup, took a sip, put it down, and said, "However, more than wine, we want to know some useful information."
The bartender looked at the black man who didn't move the cup but stood in front of the bar like an iron tower, looking at him. He couldn't help but start sweating behind his back.
"You can say whatever you want, as long as I know it, I will tell you everything." The bartender said with a smile.
When the black man heard what he said, he took out a small folded piece of paper from his breast pocket. After unfolding the layers, the small piece of paper turned into three wanted notices.
The black man put the three wanted posters on the bar. The white man came closer and said in a low voice: "We heard that these three people appeared in Valentine and came all the way from Annesburg. Have you seen this?" Three people?”
The bartender looked carefully at the three faces on the wanted poster, said nothing, and just turned his attention to the gambling table in the tavern.
The black and white people understood the situation and turned their heads to look. It didn't take long to determine that the five people on the gambling table contained exactly the three targets they were looking for.
"How about it? Together?" the white man asked.
The black man still maintained a cold expression and replied: "No need."
"Don't forget, even if I don't work, we will still be paid 50-50." The white man reminded with a smile.
The black man gave a rare smile, showing his shining white teeth, and said, "Aren't you happy to get paid for nothing?"
"It's not my conscience," the white man joked.
The black man didn't answer, he just left the bar and walked towards the gaming table. The white man did not stop him. He just turned around and said to the bartender: "A bottle of whiskey, a bottle of beer, and I think you are ready to escape. Bullets don't have eyes."
The bartender nodded tremblingly, put a bottle of whiskey and a bottle of beer on the bar as quickly as possible, and then skillfully moved behind the bar with only his head exposed, paying attention to the situation at the gaming table.
The card game on the gambling table is in full swing, and naturally the most common game played is Texas Hold'em. The black people locked on the short hunchback among the five people - this was one of their targets. They walked behind the hunchback and did nothing but stared at the back of the hunchback's head.
The other four people at the card table noticed the black man behind the hunchback, and their expressions changed invariably.
The hunchback also felt the strange gaze from behind. He turned around, looked the black man up and down, and asked, "Are you okay?"
"Let's see," the negro replied shortly.
The hunchback didn't pay much attention, and turned back to play cards with the others.
The negro took a cigar out of his coat pocket and a box of matches. He put the cigar in his mouth, took out a match from the matchbox, and looked at the bulging back of the hunchback in front of him, as if looking for a good angle. After a while, he chose a spot, struck a match on the hunchback's bulging back with a "swish" sound.
The game came to a standstill again.
The hunchback was stunned for a moment, and then the corners of his mouth began to twitch unconsciously.
He turned around, stood up, stared intently at the black man who was just leisurely lighting his cigar, and squeezed out words through his teeth: "Nigger, you're trying to find trouble on purpose, aren't you?"
The cigar in the black man's mouth kept changing positions. He said, "I am really looking for something."
The hunchback said nothing, just stared at the black man's face. The two companions of the hunchback did not speak, but stood up slowly, and slowly touched the revolvers on their waists.
"Tell me about it, nigger," the hunchback said rudely.
"The one hundred dollars you have," the black man said, looking at the other two people standing up, "and you, the three of you, each owe me one hundred dollars."
The three people raised their eyebrows. They were very sensitive to the term "one hundred dollars" because their reward said "100 dollars, life or death."
Now that I have said this, I have made it very clear. As a person involved, if you still don’t understand, then you are mentally ill.
The hunchback casually kicked the chair he was sitting on aside. His eyes were fixed on the black man who was half a body taller than him. His hands began to fumble around his waist. His two companions were also ready to attack, and their eyes were locked. This desperate bounty hunter, they were sure that as soon as the other party made a move, they would be able to beat this guy into pieces immediately.
"Friend, do you know what happened to the last person who provoked me like this?" the hunchback asked.
"Tell me about it," the black man said with a slight smile.
The hunchback squeezed out a vicious word from between his teeth: "He is probably rotting under the Annesburg mine now."
"That's really creepy." The black man's smile became even more mocking.
The people in the tavern had already realized that something was wrong, and all those who could run ran away. In the huge tavern, except for the four people who were confronting each other and the white man who was pouring himself a drink on the bar, there was only one table of people left. Sitting at his desk eating and drinking as if nothing happened.
"I... aren't we leaving?" Raven asked tremblingly.
"Let's go, it's not something you should care about," Brandi said as he picked up a piece of beef with a fork and stuffed it into his mouth. "What you should care about is not to pee in your pants later and affect all of us. appetite."
"Friend," the white man's voice sounded behind Brandy, "can you let me sit at this table?"
"Of course." Brandy said, pulling out the chair next to her.
"Thank you," the white man smiled politely, sat down, filled himself a glass of whiskey, and asked, "Don't you guys leave here?"
"Bullets can't hit us, why should we leave?" Brandi said, pointing to Calloway, who was already drunk and unconscious, and said, "What's more, this old man is already so drunk. We can’t just leave him here like this, right?”
"It makes sense," the white man nodded and said, "You really shouldn't leave the old man alone in a dangerous place."
Brandi looked at the four people who were confronting each other at the gambling table and said, "Your friend is much more dangerous than the old man here. What? Aren't you going to help?"
"If I go to help, I'm in danger. That nigger will blow my head off before he kills those guys." The white man smiled and stretched out his hand to Brandy. "Kim Schultz, I'm A dentist.”
Brandy also stretched out her hand to shake it with Kim Schultz and said, "Brandy Munny, your main job now is probably a bounty hunter."
While the two were introducing themselves, there was a new movement at the gambling table.
In a gunfight duel, the confrontation process is often very torturous. During this process, there are many people who can't bear their temper and draw their guns. However, ninety-nine times these people end up dying violently. Those exceptions are only It's just a life saved.
Calmness is an essential quality for a shooter. For a shooter, losing his cool is equivalent to losing his life.
One of the three people who confronted the black man couldn't bear the loneliness and pulled his gun out of its holster.
The next moment, three deafening gunshots almost tore off the roof of the tavern.
The black man still stood there. He blew on the smoke coming from the muzzle of the gun and put the gun back into the holster on his waist.
And the three people who were confronting him all fell to the ground in a mess, making no sound.
"Okay, come here," Schultz beckoned, "Before the town sheriff gets here, you still have time to enjoy the beer for a while. To be honest, the beer here is not bad, and the aroma of malt is very strong. "
The black man walked over slowly, pulled up a chair, sat down, and began to drink beer by himself.
At this time, Chief Malloy led a few policemen to break in. He first noticed the tall black man who was difficult to get along with at first sight. Then he saw Brandy and said hello: "Brother Brandy, this way What's going on?"
"You can just ask this gentleman for the specific situation." Brandy pointed to Schultz sitting next to him.
"Hello, sir, you must be the sheriff of this town," Schultz stood up, shook hands with Sheriff Malloy, and said, "My name is Kim Schultz, a dentist and a bounty hunter. Golden Hunter.”
"Curtis Malloy," Sheriff Malloy shook hands with Schultz and said, "Although you are also law enforcement officers, you cannot shoot and kill people randomly on my territory. This is the law. "
"Of course we are not killing people indiscriminately, dear Chief Malloy," Schultz said as he took out three wanted posters from his pocket. "The three lying over there are the notorious Russo brothers. , they were arrested in Annesburg for murder, but they escaped from prison the day before the execution and worked together to kill two policemen. Now all three are wanted, with a reward of three hundred dollars."
Sheriff Malloy took the warrant and looked at it, then handed it to his men and asked them to identify it on their own.
"That means you now owe us three hundred dollars, Chief Malloy," Schultz said, smiling a mischievous smile that belied his age.
Sheriff Malloy looked at him and said: "Of course I will handle official business, but you and your black-faced friend must remember not to act wild on my territory, otherwise, Even if you have the title of bounty hunter, I still have the right to execute you on the spot."
"That's natural, Mr. Sheriff." Schultz bowed slightly to show respect for the local law.
After the police left, Brandi asked: "So, this is how you usually work?"
"Strictly speaking, it's not normal, because most of the time we are on the road, running from this place to that place," Schultz said while shaking the wine in the glass, "But generally speaking, As long as the wanted poster states life or death, we usually use bullets instead of nooses."
Brandi took a sip of wine and said, "Logically speaking, our profession should only have the power to arrest and transport prisoners. As for trial and execution, I don't think it should be our business."
"What you say makes sense," Schultz nodded. "But generally speaking, as long as the wanted order does not require us to arrest someone alive, from a legal perspective, we also have the power to enforce the law."
"But the wanted order doesn't require that he must be killed, right?" Brandy said deliberately, "I always feel that our work should serve the people."
Schultz smiled, spread his hands, and said, "You are right. Catching and trying those scum is our job and the way we serve the people."
"But please look at the current situation, Mr. Schultz," Brandy said, pointing to the empty tavern. "If ordinary people were really considered, this place wouldn't be what it is now."
Schultz still maintained a polite smile. He turned back to the black man and said, "This gentleman seems to have some objections to our style of doing things."
The black man seemed to have noticed Brandy's young face beside him. He sneered with disdain and said, "It's often easier to talk nonsense than to grow up."
Brandi looked at the black man and said with a slight disdain: "Although I have not been in this business for a long time, at least I have always followed the legal procedures of this country and have never killed anyone in the name of trial. "
"Listen to me, kid," the black man said with an expression that wasn't quite a smile, "this profession is not as fair and just as you think. If you want to be a hero, you might as well find a bed and a girl. Of course, you have to have that ability to be able to show off your majesty as a hero in this regard."
"Hmph, you probably don't have the ability to show off your power when you say something like this." Brandi stood up, looked at the black man, and retorted without hesitation.
"Okay, okay, gentlemen," Schultz also stood up, playing the role of peacemaker, "Since you guys can't stand each other, and we are both bounty hunters, why don't we use the bounty hunter method? What do you think about settling disputes?"
Brandy glared at the black man fiercely and looked at Schultz with some confusion: "The bounty hunter way?"
"You may not have heard of bounty duels," Schultz said. "This is a competition between bounty hunters. You can decide the specific content of the competition. In essence, it is similar to various competitive activities common in the West. There is no difference, except that the format is more formal and requires a middleman to serve as a referee to increase the fairness of the competition. How about it? Do you want to play a round?"
Brandy looked back at the black man provocatively and said, "Don't you dare?"
"Always here for you, rookie." The black man said tit for tat.
"Okay, okay, in this case, there will be a way to solve the problem." Seeing that his proposal was accepted by the two of them, Schulz's tone became more relaxed, "Speaking of which, you haven't introduced each other yet, right?"
Brandi and the black man reached out and shook hands at the same time.
"Brandy Munny," Brandy said.
"Django," said the black man.
"Can you spell him out?"
"DJANGO," Django said expressionlessly, "the D is silent."
