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Occluded by the dark night that blanketed his old town of Devil's Valley. Jack Dixon dismounted his stallion, a Mustang he'd fondly named Billy, after his dead brother. The horse had saved him once, and he'd felt like Billy's spirit was looking over him from wherever he was. A wave of nostalgia crept over him as he parted the wooden doors to the saloon, pushing through into a dimly-lit, smoky area. Immediately, all eyes were on him. He could almost hear their thoughts. My, my, the Dixon boy has come back home... was never the same after what happened to Little Billy... never found the guy who did it. Jack ignored them, preemptively avoiding their accusations. Nobody but him knew what had really happened, because no one seemed to believe him.
The saloon was almost deathly quiet, a rare feat for this time of night. Jack meandered to the bar, fixing his eyes on certain patrons, recognizing most of them. Sliding onto the wooden barstool he'd haunted before he'd left home, Jack nodded at Bernie, the owner of the saloon and his only friend, if he could be said to have one, because he'd grown up with Billy and Jack. Now Jack turned toward Bernie, shirking away from meeting his own reflection in the large mirror behind the bar.
"How are ya, Jack?" Bernie asked in a hushed whisper, leaning his forearms on the wooden top of the bar and squeezing his arm with brotherly affection, then pouring him a stiff drink.
"Been better," Jack admitted, his first words in years to his oldest-- and only-- friend in the world. He lifted the glass tumbler to his lips and tilted it, letting the strong amber liquid burn down his throat and into his belly, sighing. Bernie didn't ask, and poured him another.
"It's been a long time."
Jack snorted.
Bernie paused, waited, then said: "where you been these past few years?"
Jack shook his head. "Everywhere and nowhere. It doesn't matter. What's important is I'm back now."
Bernie cocked his head to the side questioningly. He tried to peer into Jack's eyes, to try to capture some piece of their broken past, to see even the smallest sliver of the old Jack down beneath the surface.
"Why'd you stay away so long?"
"There was nothing left for me here," Jack said, staring off into the distance. He knew Bernie wouldn't take it personally.
Bernie sighed, unsure of what to say, then noticed some patrons at the other end of the bar needed a refill on their drinks, and slipped away silently.
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