[b]Santiago Montoya
Location;; Sand Flats
Tagged;; None[/b]

As the sun blared down upon his leather-wrapped stetson, his razor-sharp, deep hazel eyes hidden underneath the shade of the brim, Santiago turned El Diablo into the entrance of the quiet, dusty little town...Sand Flats, the cracked wooden sign beside the entrance read. The people outside spared the outsider a weary glance, obviously suspicious of the poncho-wearing bounty hunter. As El Diablo's trot turned into a gaiting walk, the townsfolk got a glimpse of two bodies, both with their heads covered in rough sacks, tied to the back of the black stallion, bumping softly with each hoofstep the horse took. Santiago paid them no mind, his lips frowning, teeth chewing on a toothpick long since bit and scarred. His eyes were focused on one thing, and one thing only...the Sheriff's Office. It was as dusty as the rest of the town, but he'd seen a lot worse. Hopefully their government stipend wasn't drained over things like whiskey and beer. Otherwise he'd have to move on to the next town a ways away, and by then, the corpses of the two criminals would've been decomposed and rotten, and Diablo hated having that scent on his flank.

Slowing Diablo down to a halt right outside of the Sheriff's Office, Santiago slid off of the dark leather saddle, grabbing Diablo's reigns and knotting him at the bar out front. Satisfied with the knot, Santiago moved to the back, grabbing the two tied up corpses by the collars of their dirty shirts and coats. David Beckham and Joshua Cairnford...500 bones each. He had came upon them on a whim, and recognizing them for what they were worth, he simply released two pieces of lead each into their heads, before tying them off, grabbing the wanted notices they kept in their horse saddles - a lot of outlaws kept them as some sort of pride bull - before heading to the nearest city, which happened to be Sand Flats. The lone bounty hunter opened the door with minor shoulder-bang, garnering the attention of a couple of lackeys sitting in chairs near the door.

[b]"David Beckham and Joshua Cairnford...[i]muerto[/i]."[/b] Santiago stated, his deep, rough voice holding a tint of warning. He was used to the younger, less experienced law enforcement officers to take the bodies and refuse to pay. After that happened on his first Bounty, he quickly learned that threatening them worked. It didn't seem to be the case for these two, however.

[b]"Damn! Don't leak th' blood on th' floor, [i]hombre[/i]."[/b] The skinny one mocked and laughed, while the heavy-weight man ran over, collecting the bodies, and, with a grunt, heaving them onto his shoulders. He was obviously used to taking care of the heavy lifting. 

[b]"The money. One-thousand."[/b] Was Santiago's only reply, taking the wanted notices out of his pocket, and placing them both on the desk.

[b]"Yeah, yeah, here's your money."[/b] The thin man replied, having already undid the safe behind the desk. With a nod, Santiago took the money, and, without another word, turned on his heel, exiting the dusty office. Resting a heavy, gloved hand on El Diablo's forehead, getting a nudge in return, Santiago smirked, easily leaping up and sliding onto the saddle. 

[b]"Another one, eh, [i]El Diablo[/i]?"[/b] He muttered, turning the horse out onto the street. The sun was blaring high in the sky, and he began to really feel the heat. Thankfully, he witnessed areas hotter than this, and it didn't bothered him much other than the man dipping his hat down slightly. As El Diablo walked back out into the open, Santiago gazed around the town, still chewing on his toothpick. [b]"Sediento?"[/b] He asked El Diablo, patting the horse on the flank, and directing it towards the only tavern he saw since he'd been in this city. Sandy Rose Saloon. A trough of water was put out front, for the thirsty horses. Good.

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[b]Santiago Montoya
Location;; Sandy Rose Saloon
Tagged;; Everyone[/b]

[b]"Shot of [i]'Senorita's Spice'[/i]."[/b] He called out to the barmaiden as he sat down at the bar counter, nearest towards the door, in a bit of shade. Senorita's Spice was a very...heavy whiskey, built in with peppered spice and some extra blends, made originally in Mexico. It was world-famous, despite not many American cities having it, and Santiago was thirsting for a nice shot. Hopefully this woman had it...but he doubted it. He could count on his hand, the number of times a bartender served him weak stuff whenever he asked for a heavier drink. As he settled down, Santiago allowed his shaded eyes to roam over the other bar goers. There weren't really anyone that he paid specific attention to, although there was a grizzled man, with a black mustache, that he dully recognized. Not exactly knowing why, and not really caring at the time, Santiago turned his attention back forward, his elbows resting on the smooth wooden countertop.