The Crushed Weasel

If there was a criminal visiting Gold Springs, there was a good chance they were at the Crushed Weasel. The owner and bartender, Annabelle, catered to a wide range of clients and patrons, although almost all of them had a criminal record, and many still have a desire to see Texas flattened into the dirt (In some of their cases quite literally). It was the obvious place for someone to be hiding out from the law, and one of the most dangerous places for Texas to go. But the Weasel didn't have a choice. Not unless she wanted to wake up in her office one day with a giant horse ass hovering over her, squashing her into a nice new cushion, then she would have to go into the Saloon.

Texas pushed the double doors open, the patrons inside all laughing and talking. That stopped immediately as soon as they all saw the Sheriff. Texas put a hand on her gun, ready to draw as she slowly walked towards the counter. She tried to ignore all the stares and glares she got from the crowd, no doubt a whole lot of them where thinking of ten different ways to destroy her, another ten ways to squash her, and another ten ways to really humiliate her. Texas ignored them though, she just looked ahead, right to the smirking bovine cleaning a glass, Annabelle's face plastered with a wide grin. "Well, well, well. Didn't expect to see our fine Sheriff give us a visit." Annabelle said.

"This isn't a leisure visit Annabelle, I'm here on Sheriff business." Texas replied.

"But I haven't done anything wrong Sheriff! You should know, I've done my time, I'm just a humble saloon owner now." Annabelle bragged with a smile, Texas just rolled her eyes and continued,

"I'm not here for you. Have you seen Georgia at all?" Texas asked.

"Nope, can't say that I have Sheriff." Annabelle said, Texas looked at the bull skeptically.

"Are you sure about that? Not trying to cover for her?" Texas prodded.

"Why in the hell would I do that? I've got to time to get into trouble, not when there's so many customers to serve." Annabelle said, slamming the mug down, leaning against the counter and glaring down at the Weasel. "Now unless you want to cause me more trouble, I suggest you either buy something, or get out..." Annabelle said, the bull blowing steam from her nostrils right into Texas's face. The Weasel's hat shook slightly on the hot air, Texas's hand gripping her gun as she had a choice to either keep pushing the bartender, or leaving good enough alone...or actually ordering a drink.