Boots, Booze, and Bar Fights
The air felt heavy as I tried to wake myself up. The smell of stained oak wood and whiskey established itself in the back of my throat as I took in what felt like my first ever breath. My eyes blinked open slowly as they peered at the splintering wooden table that was supporting my arms. The showtunes being played on a piano in the background mixing with the jovial noises of people celebrating assaulted my ears as they listened to my surroundings. What the hell, I thought as I gingerly lifted my head from the table to look around. I found myself tucked away in a dark corner of the establishment and thought to myself, Where in the world did I end up? As I looked around the place it quickly became apparent that I was in a bar full of drunk, sweaty farmhands and scantily dressed ladies walking around, flirting openly with the patrons.
I took in my surroundings and noticed that there was a long, wooden bar counter settled against one of the walls. The barkeep was opening bottles of beer and pouring shots of whiskey as patrons put down dollar bills and munched on peanuts while they waited. In front of me, nestled in the far right corner of the room, was a poker table with a few players, a pile full of colored chips, and a man shuffling cards. The front of the building had two sets of bay windows framing the wooden swinging doors that separated the bar from the outside. A barber could be seen in the back corner of the bar, tending to his customers' hair as they drank from brown glass bottles. The patrons were scattered around the first floor of the building as they talked idly amongst themselves while drinking their cold beverages and eating their hot meals.
Panic was pooling in the deepest part of my stomach. I was in an unfamiliar place with unfamiliar people. One moment I was in my little dark blue Toyota Corolla, on my way to pick up much needed groceries, and the next moment I was waking up in what felt like an old western themed bar surrounded by drunk hillbillies. I needed to find out exactly where I was and how long I'd been here, as I do not recall ever stepping foot into a building like this. I forced my aching legs up from the chair I found myself sitting in and weaved my way through the tables towards the barkeep at the counter.
The bartender was a tall, thin man with a rather large mustache. The white apron he wore over his clothes was wrinkled and smelled of spilled booze. He was cleaning a whiskey glass as I approached him cautiously. "Excuse me, sir," I started cautiously, basically shaking in my skin as I spoke. "You wouldn't mind telling me where I am, would you?" The mustached man looked up at me with a quizzical expression plastered across his face as I inquired about my whereabouts. He looked me up and down, his eyebrows knit together as if he was trying to determine if he had seen me before.
"Hello there, uh, ma'am," he responded, his eyebrow raised curiously. "This here is my bar, Smithfield's Saloon. The best place in Valentine to grab a drink after a hard day's work." I had never heard of a bar called Smithfield's or a town called Valentine, and I've lived in Tennessee my whole life!
"Oh…" I said shakily. "Where exactly is 'Valentine', if you don't mind me askin'?" The man before me gave me a shocked expression before replying.
"Miss, Valentine is in the heart of New Hanover," he said, he continued with a proud smirk on his face, "we are the best livestock town you'll ever get to see, down in these parts." I shot my gaze down towards the counter as I thought. New Hanover? Livestock town? I must be dreaming, I have absolutely no recollection of ever learning about these places back when I was in high school! I have to find out if he saw me arrive here or not, otherwise I might as well have just teleported into the unknown. I brought my eyes back up to meet the barkeeps with one more question buzzing on the tip of my tongue.
"Uh, sir," I started. "Did you happen to know about what time I came in and sat down?" He shook his head, no.
"Unfortunately I didn't see you walk in, but I had noticed you sitting in the corner with your head down for a while," he responded. "Thought I'd just leave you be for the time being." The panic had started to form a heavy pit in the bottom of my stomach. My fingernails gripped the smooth wooden counter as I closed my eyes and started taking deep breaths. I don't know where I am and I don't know how I got here. I was not going to have a meltdown in front of a bunch of strangers in the middle of nowhere.
I could hear the front doors swing back and forth and the floorboards creak loudly as someone walked in. I looked up towards the front of the building and there stood a scruffy looking man who looked to be in need of a good shave. He was wearing a worn-out black hat, a blue button down shirt, a black bandana tied around his neck, dirty blue jeans, and brown scuffed boots. He looked to be a real cowboy.
"Oh, Arthur. Arthur, come here," a man called out to the scruffy stranger from the other end of the bar with a thick Mexican accent. "Come over here, I want you to meet our friends," he said while gesturing to the pair of women between him and another man. The spurs on his heels clicked with every step he took as he approached. The two men mingling with some of the flirtatious women I saw earlier. The man they called Arthur dipped his hat at the ladies before greeting them.
"Pleased to meet you," he spoke with a rough voice that sounded as if it had been scarred from years of smoking tobacco.
"Well ain't you just the tough as teak mountain man?" one of the women responded. The second one playfully swatted her shoulder as she jumped into the conversation.
"Oh, you be quiet Anastasia," she quipped with a smile. "Anyone can tell this one is a pussy cat" The three men exchanged awkward glances before speaking.
"Exactly," that thick latin accent dragged out, "...yes, he's a pussy… cat. Ain't that right Arthur?" The man said as he clapped Arthur on the shoulder, trying to diffuse the awkward tension. Arthur rolled his eyes and sighed.
"Whatever you say," he said as he looked at his friend. Turning back to the ladies he asked quite bluntly, "How much you cost, anyway?" I could hear one of the ladies huff loudly at his words.
"Well ain't that a nice way to talk to a lady? She said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. Arthur met her sarcasm with even more by answering her question.
"Oh," he said as he feigned embarrassment. "I didn't know I was talking to a lady." The two women, thoroughly annoyed, scoffed at Arthur before excusing themselves and leaving the three men at the bar counter. I would've burst out laughing if I hadn't been trying to calm myself down. Arthur waved to the bartender and got Smithfield's attention, wanting to order some shots. The barkeep went to the trio and poured out three shots of whiskey after collecting the change left on the counter. The three men continued laughing and talking amongst themselves after the previously tense situation sorted itself out.
All of the sudden, a large drunk man stumbled through the wooden swinging doors, bumping into one of the saloon's patrons as he did so. Angry yelling between the two replaced the once jovial conversation in the bar. I could hear Arthur joking to his friends about the conflict before them.
"He about to kiss that guy or punch him?" He said while looking quizzically at the scene before him. Suddenly the large drunk man headbutted the other onto the table behind them.
"Oh," the Latin man exclaimed. "Looks like we have our answer!" The trio left the end of the bar to start joining the fight ahead of them with the rest of the saloon patrons. Bottles are getting smashed, chairs are being broken, and fists are flying wildly. I stared at the man called Arthur as he landed blow after blow on a man who punched him in the back.
The large man who started the fight shouted from across the room, "Let's just shoot the bastards!" while laughing maniacally. This is when I ran behind the counter, using the large wooden counter to separate myself from the chaos. A voice responded to him, the silent man from the original trio had chimed in.
"Oh come on," he shouted as a large smile spread across his face. "We can handle these fools!" Was the trio actually a group of four? I thought to myself while shielding my head from shattering glass and splintering wood. One solid connection could be heard to the man's jaw as Arthur knocked his assailant out and he crumpled to the ground in a pitiful heap. Once freed up, he went to the large instigator and tore away the men pinning him against the wall, giving him the opportunity to break the nose of the guy who previously held him down. A loud thudding could be heard coming from upstairs. I turned my head towards the staircase at the other end of the room. A giant, sweaty man was stomping his way down the creaky wooden steps towards the bar.
"What the hell is going on down here?" he shouted angrily. The bartender next to me shot up from his hiding spot behind the counter to attempt to intervene.
"No, Tommy," he pleaded to the sweaty man. "Stay outta this." Blatantly ignoring the bartender's pleas, he made his way to the center of the room. Beelining for the latin man who had just knocked the lights out of another patron that had entered the fight.
"Come here, you little greaser," Tommy jeered at the latin man as he approached. After landing one punch to the sweaty man's shoulder, Tommy overpowered him and forced the latin man to back up into the wooden bar counter. "Ya hit like a girl," Tommy spat out as he continued to wrestle the man he currently had pinned between him and the bar.
CRACK! My eyes were glued straight ahead in horror as I watched Arthur get one of the wooden chairs broken over his back, the impact sending splinters in every direction. Before he could react, the man who had hit him grabbed both of his arms and had pinned them tightly behind his back. I could see the veins popping out of his forehead as he struggled against his subduer, trying his hardest to break himself free from the tight hold the man had on his arms.
"Get the hell off me!" he grunted as he wrestled himself out of the man's grasp. Once free, he turned around and landed a single blow to his attacker's jaw and watched as his unconscious form crumpled to the ground. After finishing off his assailant, he shoved his body out of the way as he made his way to where his friend was being thrown around by the sweaty man.
"Hey, tough guy" Arthur shouted, voice full of venom as he approached Tommy. The large, sweaty man wasn't paying attention to Arthur as he came up behind him and threw a punch at the back of his head. This caused Tommy to freeze before turning around to face the man who had assaulted him.
"You want some too, huh?" Tommy growled as he grabbed Arthur and launched him through one of the large bay windows. He started to make his way out of the building as I sat there staring wide eyed at the scene before me. I was not expecting to be in the middle of a huge bar fight! Mr. Smithfield held out his hand to help me get up off the floor, I took it and we made our way around the counter and to the front door to continue watching the fight as it moved onto the muddy road. "Come on, pretty boy," said the larger of the two men as he stomped his way down into the mud.
"Pretty boy?" Arthur spat, "You're kidding me right? Pretty boy?" With a grunt, he managed to heave himself back up as his opponent approached from the front deck of the saloon.
"You okay there, Arthur?" one of his comrades asked warily from the broken window.
"Yeah," responded the muddied and bruised man. "I got this son of a bitch." Arthur narrowed his eyes and flexed his hands as he watched Tommy approach him. The two men had started to fight each other as a crowd of people formed around them. The spectators cheered on their suspected champions as the two men fought in the rain. Suddenly Arthur is back on the ground after taking an exceptionally large fist to the stomach. Tommy had grabbed onto him as he was down, landing blow after blow on Arthur as he tried to gather his bearings. After a bout of jerking and wriggling, Arthur broke free and pushed Tommy back towards the steps of the saloon.
Charging at the larger man, Arthur made to punch him in the head as he was staggering but Tommy had noticed all too soon. Arthur was once again being held rather tightly by Tommy's large hands. Tommy shoved Arthur back to the soggy ground, holding him in place as he again tried to break free of his iron grasp. Eventually he wrestled himself out of the hold the larger man had on him, turned himself over and connected his sharp booted foot into Tommy's groin, effectively felling the man. Rolling out of the way, Arthur took his chance and jumped on top of the man he had just downed, driving his fist repeatedly into his opponent's face.
"Hey," one of the spectators yelled through the storm at the two muddied men in the street. "Come on now, stop that!" he begged as Arthur continued to turn Tommy's face into a bloody mess. The stranger walked up to Arthur and attempted to pull him off of the unresponsive man below him. "Stop!" he cried, "Stop, please! Please, I beg you. Stop it." He pleaded as he ripped Arthur away from the now purple-faced Tommy. "Come, sir," He argued as he watched Arthur pick himself up, "You won the fight already, surely that's enough?"
"What business is it of yours?" Arthur growled at the stranger, not taking his eyes off of the incapacitated man before him.
"N-no business," he stammered as he stumbled backwards, away from the victor. "No business, sir. But, please… I beg you…" he trailed off. His gaze switched between the two muddied and bruised men. Arthur, extremely dirty from his fight, pushed the stranger out of his way as he walked away from Tommy's bloodied body. Shoving the crowd aside, he made his way to the next building over to sit on the porch and rest his injuries.
The entire thing was wild, I had never seen anything like it at any bars back in Tennessee. Although, bars in Tennessee had hired muscle to avoid situations like these anyways. I watched as the winner got approached by a tall man in a dark jacket. I looked towards the bar owner standing next to me, "Does this…" I said, waving my hand in Tommy's general direction, "happen often around here?" He let out a chuckle and nodded.
"Yes ma'am, fights are a common occurrence when you serve customers the way I do," he said with a smirk before walking back into his establishment. The crowd that was encircling the two men earlier had since dispersed, leaving deep foot paths in the muddied road. The rain had lightened to a drizzle as the sun started to shine through the clouds. I stood on the porch in front of the bar, and that's when I noticed a rustling sound next to me, it was a dampened newspaper. I bent down in order to pick it up and peered at the front page, thinking that the print might give me more clues about where I am and how I can get home. On the front page, in bold print, was the date. April 14th, 1899.
"1899?!" I said, probably much louder than I should have. I was receiving wary looks as I scanned my panicked eyes across the page smeared with wet ink. No, no, no this wasn't right. I just talked to my momma and it was definitely 2018. For fuck's sake, I was born in 1992!
I could hear the blood start to pound in my ears as I stared at the smudged date printed on the page in front of me. The noise in my ears had drowned out the noise of people sloshing through the muddy road and entering the wrecked bar. My heart was pounding violently inside of my chest, as if trying to escape before the tightness became too restricting. My breathing was shaky as I tried my hardest to make sense of what I was reading.
"Miss," asked the roughened voice of the stranger that I had just watched beat another man to a pulp. I tried to look up to the man speaking to me through blurry eyes when all of the sudden I felt my knees buckle beneath me. I felt a pair of large, rough hands catch my shoulders as I started to fall forward. My body went limp as the panic took hold of me, bringing me back into the deep, dark mist that had originally fogged my mind.