In collaboration with @Cool Ghoul as Detlev Schäfer
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Jesse’s foot bounced restlessly under the table as she watched the two gents’ exchange. She hadn’t meant to eavesdrop, but it wasn’t like she could stop her ears from catching bits and pieces of the conversation… That and curiosity got the better of her. An undercurrent of tension crackled between them and she had no idea where it came from. Whatever it was, it was making her uneasy.
When the silver-haired man set his sights on her, Jesse quickly pushed to her feet and squared up. “Evening, mister,” she greeted, thrusting out a hand, ready to give a strong, firm handshake.
“Good evening, son.” Detlev’s hand shot out to meet the young man’s own in a swift, practiced motion - he offered a tight, strong grip, befitting a hardened western man, and gestured for the young man to sit after the greeting was done. Whatever bitter taste had lingered after the previous conversation’s sour conclusion had been cleansed wholesale by the young man’s forthrightness and candor - it impressed him alright, but he wasn’t quite yet ready to let his guard down.
“Do you smoke? The older man quipped, holding out a folded stogie to the bright-eyed youth before him, the enclosing papers a shade of dull brown rolled neat and tight around their dried, herbaceous contents. It was, by both nature and design, a true, old-western cowboy killer, and perhaps the finest specimen she’d ever seen.
Jesse’s eyebrows shot up at the offer, a surprised chuckle escaping her. It caught her off guard, in a good way. “Sorry,” she said, a grin tugging at the corner of her mouth. “You’re the first fella in this town to treat me like I ain’t still suckling at my ma’s teat.”
She glanced down at the proffered stogie, breathing in the rich aroma that wafted up. It smelled like quality tobacco, the kind you didn’t come across every day. Jesse’s eyes flicked back up to meet the older man’s gaze.
“If you’re offering, I’d be much obliged,” she said. “But are you sure? I don’t mean to look a gift horse in the mouth, but that looks and smells like the good stuff. Ain’t you wanna save it for a special occasion?”
Detlev’s stony countenance broke for a moment, a grin parting his lips involuntarily as the young man’s words sunk in. ”Tough being underestimated, isn’t it? Well, in my experience, you’re not too young to lose something, and the West sure seems keen to take whatever it can get.” His hand remained where it was, clutching the dented old cigarette case and the singular scag offered forward between two extended fingers. ”Oh, it’s the good stuff alright, but not good enough I mind parting with it. We can’t live as though the reaper’s gonna take his time getting to us, you know? I hear his horse doesn’t need to stop for water nor feed.”
The grin on Detlev’s lips lingered: the foundation of a joke was there, but in the tone of his delivery it’d lost that soft edge, and resulted in it instead sounding like something he’d genuinely heard, once upon a time. With a rehearsed, slow, and deliberate retreat of his hand, he did his best to inspire action from the young man to snatch at the stogie before it left his reach.
Jesse nodded slowly, her eyes distant for a moment. Twenty-one years on the trails had taught her that lesson all too well. “True enough,” she conceded.
With a smooth, unhurried motion, Jesse plucked the stogie. Her other hand dipped into her coat pocket, fishing out a small tin.
“Still, it’s worth having something to look forward to,” she continued. “The reaper may be a rude guest who don’t bother to send word before he comes knocking, but that ain’t no reason to stop making plans or getting excited for tomorrow. Might as well give old Reaper something to interrupt when he finally shows his bony face.” Jesse held up the stogie. “Like how I’m fixing to light this up under the stars, where I can savor it proper without all these other smells mucking it up.” Her nose wrinkled as she frowned at the saloon, waving away a haze of tobacco smoke and stale whiskey that clung to everything.
Carefully, she nestled the stogie in the tin and pocketed it. A smile crossed her face. “Thank you kindly for the stogie,” Jesse said, tipping her hat slightly. She gestured toward the table. “Did you wanna palaver here?”
A chuckle emanated from Detlev as he listened to Jesse go on - the young man had gotten a lot of things right, by his estimation, and the outlook he’d displayed thus far had been impressive in its freshness. ”You know, you’re beginning to make the reaper seem like a pretty crappy guest, all told. But you’re right, and I’m glad we agree - as precious as something might be, you can’t take it with you, better to enjoy it in good company and on your terms than having it pinched from your pockets by the undertaker.”
The cigarette case closed with a resonant snap, his amber eyes shimmering with curiosity as the young man’s words sunk deeper into his understanding. A feeling within him bubbled up as he observed the young man’s wisdom first-hand, an ancient surge of motivation he’d long since ceased the consideration of… And though that hadn’t changed, he had to admit: the young man had the makings of an honest-to-god Texas Ranger, and back in the day, he would’ve shipped him off in a heartbeat. But those days were gone - he was done sending boys to die. ”Keep this between us, but: there’s a ladder ‘round back of the old Ranger’s safehouse down the way, clamber on up and it’s just you and the stars. As private as it gets in a town as tightly-packed as this.” He offered, with a twinkle in his eye - but the smile faded, as did that telltale shimmer of mischief, as business was mentioned… and the mental images of what Ramos had described came flooding back. “Yeah, here’s fine. Ramos has me checking in with everyone after the fight, you know, making sure everyone’s grievances are put on record. A better sheriff you won’t find anywhere - man gives a shit even when it isn’t his turn.”
Jesse’s expression sobered as the silver-haired gent’s face grew serious. She straightened up a mite and gave a curt nod of understanding. Even if she wasn’t rightly sure how much help she’d be.
At the mention of a particular word, her ears pricked up. “You said sheriff? That wouldn’t happen to be Sheriff Estrada, would it? Our wagonmaster mentioned him before I got dropped off. Said he was one of the good ones.” Jesse’s eyes flicked towards the saloon doors, as if half-expecting the man himself to come striding through. “It’s good to put a face to the name.”
Turning back to the man, a new thought struck her. “Say, mister, are you a deputy?”
”The very same.” He said, with no small measure of pride: Ramos had built a great reputation for himself since their days working together, and it was good to finally see him be truly recognised for his efforts to invoke positive change. ”Not a deputy in the traditional sense, nah. I don’t have a badge or anything like that - but me and Ramos go back a long ways, long enough he can ask me to step in and I’ll trip over myself to oblige.” His intonation alone was tinged with an underlying current of respect and reverence - the words he’d spoken had come from somewhere deep within himself, somewhere honest and true.
Jesse regarded the man with open admiration. There was something to be said for a citizen who’d step up to help keep order without the official mandate. “So you’re the Sheriff’s favorite posseman. Reckon that makes both of you the cream of the crop around these parts.”
”My apologies, by the by. I’ve not shown you the decency of introducing myself: I’m Detlev Schäfer. What do they call you, son?”
“Jesse. Pleased to meet you, Mr. Schäfer. Just rode in with Rodrigo’s caravan. Been beating the bushes for work, but…” She gestured to herself—her dark skin, baby face, and slight build—with a wry smile. “Turns out I don’t inspire a whole lot of confidence in folks looking to hire.” Not without trying to rip her off, that is.
Pointing her chin towards the seat she was earlier, she continued, “I was sitting there trying to sort out my next move when that ruckus broke out.”
Detlev’s eyes narrowed as he watched Jesse articulate himself - from what he’d gleaned so far, it was almost criminal that such a promising young man was being overlooked. The words he’d previously offered once more rang true - it is tough to be underestimated, and it appeared Jesse was no stranger to such. ”Their loss, then… If I was the man I was a couple decades ago, I likely as not would’ve sent you off to join the Rangers with a personal recommendation.” The man’s pause wasn’t one of consideration - his countenance contorting briefly as he was once more visited by unfortunate, and unpleasant memories of those years. ”I guess what I’m trying to say is: I see your potential, son. And when we’ve dug ourselves out of this mess we’re in, I’ll recommend you to Ramos as a deputy at the very least. You have my word on that.”
Jesse felt a sudden rush of excitement course through her veins. A deputy? Her? The prospect seemed almost too good to be true, yet Mr. Schäfer’s earnest expression left no room for doubt. Unable to contain her enthusiasm, Jesse’s face split into a wide grin. “Really? That’d be grand! Thank you.” she exclaimed, her eyes and voice brimming with genuine gratitude.
A chill wind swept through the establishment, emanating from the direction of those traditional saloon doors, and oh, how they clattered in its wake. Whatever this dark portent was, it seemed to snap Detlev back on course, and he leaned in slightly, his tone ominous in its seriousness.”Of course, this mess I’m mentioning isn’t a trifling one. If I can speak plainly? People have been going missing for a little while: maybe you’ve heard rumors of such, maybe you’ve not - but I’d like your word, if you see anything odd out there, you spot anyone creeping around you don’t feel should be, even if you’ve only got your gut’s feeling for proof, you come and tell me, alright?”
The giddy warmth of potential opportunity drained from Jesse’s body, replaced by an icy trickle down her spine as Mr. Schäfer’s words sank in. With a deliberate nod, Jesse’s voice dropped low. “You have my word, Mr. Schäfer. Anything that don’t sit right, I’ll bring it straight to you or the Sheriff.” Pausing for a heartbeat, she added firmly, “And that’s a promise I aim to keep, deputy’s badge or no.” Jesse didn’t want there to be any misunderstanding—she’d do right by those missing people regardless of how things shook out for her about employment. “I was fixing to introduce myself to the Sheriff come morning, see about work. But I’m guessing he might need an extra set of eyes and ears for a posse, given the circumstances?”
Detlev’s expression remained stern and strong, his eyes burning white-hot into Jesse’s very soul as he offered his word. This was the first time, in all the collective moments that’d passed since they started talking, that he’d finally committed to taking the young man’s measure. The severity of the situation, combined with the immense value he placed in honoring one’s word, left little room for levity or warmth in the proceedings - in his perception, Jesse had just sworn an oath of allegiance, and Detlev was committed to ensuring it was sworn with utmost sincerity. ”I’ll mention you by name when I share my findings with him, as well as your eagerness to help. But keep in mind, the payoff for such will be in the future… in the here and now, you’re my eyes and ears, and the more you give me, the more examples I can give to Ramos when the time comes. Quid pro quo.”
A flicker of hurt crossed Jesse’s face as the older man’s words stung her. “With all due respect, Mr. Schäfer,” she started, meeting his amber eyes straight on, “this talk of quid pro quo ain’t necessary. I appreciate the offer, but the way I see it, if there’re folks going missing, that’s everybody’s problem.”
She paused to drain the last of her drink, “Sides, it ain't like I don’t benefit from pitching in. Out here, we’re all we’ve got. If I can prove myself trustworthy to folks, maybe I can carve out a place for myself.” A small smile tugged at her lips. “Course, I reckon there ain’t much chance of me sniffing out something the Sheriff and his ace posseman haven’t already caught wind of. But like I said, you two’ll be the first to know if I find anything suspicious.”
“My… apologies, my young friend.” Detlev offered, his expression still stern, but his eyes betrayed a more personal level of regret. “It was not my intention to offer you an incentive where your honor had sought none.” He slowly rose to his feet, his hat tipped in the young man’s direction as he half-turned away, to stare out into the world beyond those saloon doors - his lonely world, his desolate home: wandering. Yet as the rattling of his spurs took him one step away from the table, he turned to face the young man again: “You ever need anything, a little talk or something more tangible, come by the old ranger safehouse whenever. Maybe… maybe I’ll get used to talking to decent folk quicker that way, you know, with practice.”
“Thank you, Mr. Schäfer. I will. Have a good night.”
A half-smile was all he could manage, and he stomped off towards those saloon doors - looking like the pearly gates themselves, from where he was standing: he’d been more sociable in the past bell than he had in the last five years of his life, and he was not adjusting well.
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