Django took a seat in the back of the bar. Just because he's free doesn't mean these Wyoming hillbillies won't string him up. He keeps his hat brim down and doesn't look at anyone. Just listens to the country singer finish his set.
"Greg Saunders everybody! Brought his talents from here to New York and back!"
Django eyes down the singer as he leaves the stage. Broad shoulders, strong build. He notices stains on his pants from a gun holster. A stain on both sides. Two gun holsters. He had spurs on his boots. Strange for a country singer. However Django isn't there for the singer, he has to stay focused and alert.
He already spotted his target. He was sitting at the west wall of the bar with four other men. Kevin Trapper. Wanted for the murder of twelve men across Texas, Colorado and Wyoming. Django has been tracking his movements for three months. Finally found him. Trapper and his men were all drunk except for one, who seemed to be constantly surveilling the area.
A waitress comes over to the table. "Uhh, can I uh get you something, stranger?" she says, confused and cautious as she examines the first negro she's ever seen. Django looks up at her but before he can conjure up a charming and witty response, a gunshot, and a bullet shoots right through the waitress's apron and right past his face, just barely missing. "You want me you bounty hunting nigger shit? Come get me!"
By this time Django had earned quite the reputation among the criminals of the west. He has made a long and successful career tracking and killing countless murderous, raping, and thieving crackers. And he gets paid to do it. It seems Trapper knew he would come around sooner or later.
The bar clears out as Trapper and his men open fire on Django as they spread through the bar. He flips his table over and pulls the waitress behind it. "Don't move and stay down. These men are going to die and you're gonna go home."
He waits a few seconds until he hears the silence of reloading. Django pops up from behind the table and fires three shots that go straight through the heads of three of Trappers men, all in the blink of an eye. He waits and spots a fourth man's ankle sticking out of a doorway and puts a bullet right through it. The man falls down through the doorway and receives another bullet right through his head before he even hits the ground. Django gets back into cover. The waitress is still screaming.
BOOM! BOOM!
"You hear that 12-guage, nigger? I got a storm of buckshot 'bout to rain down on yo-"A gunshot cuts off Trapper's sentence. He falls from behind the bar and smashes a bunch of glasses with his head as he lands. A confused Django sticks his head out from his table cover. He looks to the left and sees a man pointing a smoking revolver at Trapper's corpse. "Not this time, pardner" he says.
The man was wearing a blue button down shirt, and a red cloth tied behind his head covering his face from the eyes down. He had a brown cowboy hat, white pants and two gun holsters with the belt lined with ammunition. He twirls his gun and holsters it. Django quickly stands up and points his revolver right at the masked man's head as the waitress runs out of the bar frantic.
"The fuck are you?" the still confused Django demands.
"Easy, feller. Believe I just saved your skin." He replies in an arrogant Wyoming accent. He puts his hands in the air.
Django twirls and holsters his revolver. "Skin didn't need saving. What's with the mask? You look as bad as you shoot?"
The man puts his hands down and tips his hat in the process. "They call me Vigilante. I sees to it that men like Trapper here get put to justice" he explains as he walks over to Trapper's body. He pulls his head up to reveal a hole where his left eye used to be. "That look like bad shootin' to you pardner?" He drops the body. "On the count of yer, uhh, racial persuasion, I'd reckon you're Django Freeman, ain't ya?"
"I am collecting a bounty on Trapper. I hope you can understand that I intend to profit off of the justice you just brought to him." says Django as he walks over to retrieve Trapper's body.
"Not at all. I usually like to throw 'em in the big house but I guess it's too late for that. No need to rush off, what do you say we sit down to a cold one, pardner?" Vigilante replies.
Django thinks back to his first beer with Shultz. The cool foam tickling his mustache as the cold, bubbly bitter goodness pours over his tongue and down his throat. This clown reminded him of Shultz for some reason. "Sure."
They wipe the shattered glass and spilled beer and whiskey off the bar and pour two beers.
"So they call you Vigilante. Is that an accurate description?" Says Django as he gulps his drink.
"Alls I care about is keeping this here town safe from killers and criminals like Trapper. They can call me whatever they damn well please." Vigilante replies.
"So what would you do if I were to remove that mask of yours?"
"I like you pardner. You shoot well and you serve justice, even if you only care about the bounty. But if you reach for this here mask, I'll whoop you so fast Trapper here will crack a smile.""That so?" replies Django as he takes another sip.
"I seen your shootin', but I don't think you wanna tangle with the likes of me." Vigilante replies as he looks right at Django. They stare at eachother for a few seconds, then they both just laugh and toast their drinks.
"So how long you in town, cowboy? Any more justice profits to collect?" Asks Vigilante.
"Plan to hit the trail as soon as we finish this drink."
"That's too bad. I could use some help with another scum who been terrorizing my fine town here. Stevie Calhoun."
Django's eyes open and he puts his drink down. He looks at Vigilante and says "Stevie Calhoun is here? I lost his trail a year ago. Still a bounty out for him in Mississippi."
"Well what d'ya say pardner? Help me catch him and the bounty is yours."
Django finishes his beer and throws the mug behind his back.
"Let's ride."