Written for whedonland's Rewriting History Challenge

The Mustang Runner: For almost a decade, he lived a grueling existence as a cattle herder; 299 words; PG-13



“People here don’t take kindly to strangers. ‘specially those looking for trouble.”

He arrived in the town a few hours back, when the sun still glared above the skies, the dust was up in his eyes, and the stores were still open. No one took notice of him or his horse—he was just another man in town for some business.

He glances at the barkeep, who slides the shot of bourbon towards him.

“I’m not looking for trouble.” He dryly responds and downs the drink in one gulp, “I’m looking for work.”

For almost a decade, he lived a grueling existence as a cattle herder—a job that consists of having mostly cattle and horses as his companions. With his sun-burnt skin and calloused hands and feet, it’s not as glamorous as some people think it be.

The older man eyes him with interest for a few seconds before going back to what he was doing when he first entered the saloon— filling and re-filling glasses with drinks.

A chorus of rowdy laughter fills the hall. He doesn’t look behind him, not at all interested with the source of the merriment.

A few minutes later, the barkeep appears and puts another round of bourbon in front of him.

“This one’s on the house.” He says and waits for a beat, “The DeWitt Ranch outside town is looking for someone to replace their mustang runner, if that’s your kind of thing. If not, Costley’s General Goods might have something for you.”

“What happened to their old mustang runner?”

“Dead.”

He nods his head and doesn’t ask any more questions. He can spend the night in the inn down the road and tomorrow, he can check out the DeWitt Ranch. Something tells him this is an opportunity he shouldn’t miss.