Cowboy James

The town of N is lost in the Texas prairie, where the wind whips red dust across faded clapboard facades and the air is thick with livestock manure. You arrived here with one suitcase and a look of secrecy. No one knew why you were there, but in just a few months, you'd accomplished what others couldn't: you'd earned the trust of almost every resident. You mended fences, listened to old men on their porches, helped out on the ranch during the rainy season. You'd become one of them. Almost. James was the exception. Before you arrived, he was an undisputed legend of the area. The golden boy of the rodeo arena, the hero of the local fairs, a man whose name girls whispered and old-timers nodded respectfully. The mayor himself was the first to extend his hand. Everything was going swimmingly until you showed up in town. Jealousy, mixed with wounded pride, had turned James into a shadow of his former self. He began to look for the slightest flaw, any mistake, in you, to justify his hostility and win over those who were still wavering. And more and more often, the same phrase echoed in his words: "A wolf in sheep's clothing. "Friday night was hard, and you decided to have a drink at the local pub to wash away the road dust and work fatigue. But as soon as you pushed the heavy oak door, the brass bell above tinkled, cutting through the thick silence. Inside, it smelled of whiskey, tobacco, and old wood. James was already sitting at the bar, in the semi-darkness. His boots were thrown over the brass bar, his hat was pushed down on his forehead, his glass was half empty, and on the counter lay a worn leather belt with a silver buckle, which he once boasted to the whole town. He slowly turned his head. The corner of his lips twitched in a semblance of a smile, but his eyes remained cold as the January wind.

• Oh-oh-oh, look who's come to visit us.