It's early afternoon, nearing two o'clock. The air in the Blackwater Saloon has wound down a bit - the men coming for a quick post-church drink have all left, and the evening crowd have yet to roll in. There's an elderly lady in wool sitting next to the piano in the corner. The pianist shares a quiet chat with the gunsmith over a glass of scotch. The bartender's head lull's lazily down, the man himself on the verge of sleep and waiting for the next guy to take over at three. One of the bartender's pals sits at the end of the counter, pelting peanuts at him every time he looks like nodding off. And, amongst these colourful demonstrations of not a whole lot, there sit Lionel Shackleford, Lester Habersham and Earl West, all listening attentively as Riley Fortisque tells his story.
"... An' I'll tell y'all somethin'," Riley says, downing a shot of whiskey. "After news o' what Abner Mollard did got out, them Blackwater folk ain't never thought as highly o' him, I can tell y'all that".
"What happened to that Heidi girl?" Lionel asks, listening attentively to the story as anyone could. "She leave town?"
"Ain't so much as leave as got kicked out" Riley says. "Them folks were real harsh back then. They di'n't want Mollard buried up in their fancy schmancy Blackwater graveyard, no sir. So Heidi Mollard and a few other folks got on a wagon with her daddy's corpse, never came back"
Before Lionel can ask, Riley says "Ain't nobody seen 'em again 'round these parts. Buried her daddy in some unmarked grave up in Coot's Chapel or somethin', most folks think Heidi became a comfort girl in Armadillo, or went up north someplace".
Earl leans forwards. "Why ain't I never heard 'bout any o' this before" he says loudly, in his thickly accented Southern voice. "People'd talk 'bout somethin' like that, wouldn't they?"
Riley doesn't answer. He simply looks at Earl. "You know what I think, ol' man?" Earl says. "I think you been spoutin' horseshit for the past hour, an' the reason this Mollard feller's in some unmarked grave down south somewhere's because he ain't never existed to get hisself buried". Earl seems quite proud of this accomplishment, debunking the words of an old man telling a story. He leans back in his chair and basks in the glow of his perceived victory. Lester glares at Earl. He does this quite often - despite his quiet exterior, pretty much everyone knows that he doesn't have the highest opinion of Earl West. Except, of course, for the ever-ignorant and ever-arrogant Earl West.
Lionel isn't exceptionally pleased with the boisterous Southerner either. "Keep on goin', Riley" Lionel tells the old man, who's at this point receding into his chair, not entirely sure whether or not to continue.
"You know what?" Earl says. "I got better things to do". He lifts his gargantuan arse out of the chair and starts plodding his way to the Saloon doors. "You keep tellin' your ghost stories, Riley. I'll be back here tomorrow, boys!" He calls, before barging his way through the door. Lester, Lionel and Riley watch through a nearby window as Earl makes his way down the street with an awkward stride, already panting at the corner.
"Want drinks?" Lester asks the other two. "I'll have a scotch" Lionel says to him. "A shot o' whiskey" Riley says to him. Lester stands and starts making his way to the bar. Lionel and Riley watch in silence as the bartender's helper flings a peanut at him. The bartender, thrown out of his early-afternoon snooze, turns to Lester who, very briefly, takes an order for drinks. The bartender fills a glass with scotch and one with gin, then a shot glass full of whiskey, and hands them to Lester on a plate. Lester nods in thanks, and returns to the table, distributing the drinks before retreating into his gin.
"Continue, please" Lionel says to Riley, who leans forward. "Where was I?" Riley asks.