DISCLAIMER: Trigun and its characters belong to Yasuhiro Nightow.
So far, no one had any need of a worker.
But the people were friendly; Vash's few inquiries up to this point had yielded some very nice conversations. And his sources told him the insurance girls were still a-ways out. That and the fact he still had plenty of money meant it wouldn't hurt anything to stick around a while longer, keep looking for work.
It was starting to get late. Best to put off continued hunting until tomorrow. Time for a beer.
He stuck his head out the window of his hotel room. Sighed. Of course it wouldn't be as simple as just being able to get a beer; the outlaw Colt Winchester was waiting outside the saloon.
Well, at least it was something to do.
Vash traded his usual gloves for a pair of sap gloves. The six ounces of powdered lead sewn into the knuckles of each one made them good blunt weapons, especially on someone who already knew how to use proper mechanics for added wallop.
He stopped off at the front desk and produced a bill for the clerk. Hopefully, greasing palms wouldn't have to become a regular thing, else he might actually need the work he was seeking. "Please call down to the saloon in ten minutes."
"What should I say, sir?"
Vash gave him a cheery smile. "You don't have to say anything, just make sure the phone there rings in ten minutes."
"Yes, sir. Ten minutes." The clerk was confused, but as long as it was a profitable confusion he was fine.
To avoid being seen by the outlaw, Vash ducked out the rear entrance of the hotel and swiftly worked his way down to the saloon, eyeing the gaps between buildings before traversing them. This wasn't going to work if he was seen before he was ready to be seen.
The saloon had a back door for deliveries. Mindful of the time limit he'd set, Vash knocked rapidly, trying to balance between loud enough for the bartender to hear but quiet enough for Winchester to not hear.
It worked. The bartender opened the door to see who was there, and Vash entered before the man could protest. He waved a bill at the bartender, who cocked his head but still nodded and took the bill.
"There's not much time left," Vash explained quietly. "In a few minutes your phone's going to ring. Who's on the other end doesn't matter, you're just going to say that it's Katie from May City. Got it?"
"Why Katie from May City?" the bartender asked.
"Because everybody knows a Katherine or a Kate in May City, it's a common name there and everybody's been there. It's almost time, I just need you to do it, ok?"
"Ok. But promise nothing here will get broken up, all right?"
"It won't, as long as you do like I said." Vash crossed to the public side of the bar and said, almost in a shout, "Gimme a beer!"
That did the trick. Rapid bootsteps sounded, the outlaw entered.
"Aha!" Winchester proclaimed. "Caught you sneaking around! Thought you were pretty clever yesterday, didn't you? But nobody gets over on Colt Winchester twice! Get ready to finish this, stranger!"
The phone rang. Whew. Sometimes Vash felt like maybe he cut things a little too close to the wire; he would have felt awfully bad if, because of bad timing, he'd had to break his word that nothing would get busted up.
The bartender picked up. "Saloon, Thaddeus here." He paused, miming listening. Held the phone out. "Either of you two know a Katie from May City?"
The outlaw's eyes lit up, face breaking into some ugly expression that Vash assumed was his smile. "Katie! Hot dog, she does remember me!" Forgetting about Vash, he turned his back on his opponent, snatching the phone from Thaddeus the bartender. "Katie, m'girl!"
It took just a heartbeat for Vash to push off his rear foot, the power starting there and traveling through his leg, increasing as he torqued his hips into it, transmitting from them through the rest of his twisting torso and into his shoulders and finally down his arm and into his fist as it launched in its arc, full of the power that proper mechanics generate in less than an instant. It was a hard hook, its impact made even harder by the powdered metal in the sap glove, and it impacted firmly in the soft spot behind Winchester's ear.
Winchester turned around. For a horrifying heartbeat, Vash was afraid he'd underestimated what it would take to knock him out.
But the outlaw wore a dazed grin. "That Katie," he slurred. "She al'ays could make m'see stars!" He collapsed to the floor, knocked out cold.
Vash shook his head, bending down to scoop up the phone, which he handed back to the bartender with another bill. "Gonna need that beer to go."