Carthon the Bartender.

Part 3:

“I don’t think I ever told you my name is Carthon and I have owner of this here bar since my grandpa gave it to me, near close to thirty years ago. I grew up playing darts by the pool table, learned poker in the booth near the bathrooms, and had my first beer right here at sixteen. I married my high school sweetheart Lynne and we have two sons and two daughters, Kivan, Tria, Strivian, and Elis. Youngest one is nearing adulthood already.

I grew up here and don’t see reason f’r going anywhere else. Though I heard many tales of adventure, I never wanted to seek it out myself. My idea of a filled life was never on par with those adventuring types. I felt that my bar was a home for those who didn’t have one. I even set up a cot in the back behind my bar for someone who was deemed trustworthy enough to me.

Like this one guy, I don’t know his real name, but he donned a big cowboy hat like those westerns. He seemed like a surly fellow when I first served him, he ordered cheap whisky the few times he came in. But, that first night a quarrel broke out between two fella’s and quick as a cat he threw them out without doing any serious damage to my bar or patrons. They were regulars y’see, can’t be damaging what makes my money. They apologized later… But anyway, this fellow, he was surly, but honest. I let him sleep on the cot.

I set up a second cot in there for a while, but there wasn’t enough room. I do remember once my boys wanted to spend the night there. I said no, but they snuck in anyway. Seeing them there the next morn’ put a smile to my face. Kivan and Strivian were inseparable, still are I’m sure. They did everything together. Their only difference is that Kivan liked his old man and wanted to take over the bar when I was ready to retire. Strivian, on the other hand, loved listening to the stories and wanted adventure himself.

There was one particular story he enjoyed actually. The ‘Drave the Cowboy – Demon hunter’ story I used to tell them when they were kids. I told the boys it was just a story I made up, but Strivian didn’t believe me I think. To tell the truth to ya, I found the damn story. About fifteen or so years back I walk up to my bar to open, and on the steps there was a hat, coat, a ring of guns, and an empty whisky bottle with the story.

Since this was an adventure’s tavern, I thought it’d be nice to have an adventure in my bar. I made a real nice frame and hung them up on my wall; I rolled the parchment out full and let people read. His legend sprang to life in my bar for those twelve years I had it. People claimed to have seen Drave himself, something about a legendary third or fourth revolver because he was just too quick for just two. Did my bar good through those years. I even had one person ask me if I was Drave. Crazy kids.

 One young man in particular was quite fond of my relics and story. He nearly begged me for him to give them up but I refused of course. A month he came back and offered me quite a bit of coin, but the story of Drave the Cowboy Demon Hunter was one that brought in customers, y’see, so I had to refuse him again. It was a week later they were stolen with a note, ‘The legend lives on’ In Strivian’s handwritin’.  The frame is still up there with the knife stabbed with the note. People ask me about it from time to time, but it has been so long I don’t recall what the items look like all that much.

As I’m sure you’ve come to guess, Strivian and a couple of his friends are of suspicion. Kivan, too I guess, as he disappeared around the same time, but I think that was more of an obligation to watch his brother. I don’t think they did it to hurt their old man, no, but just wanted to play cowboy hunter for real. It’s been near three years I’ve seen my boys. Tria has been asking for the ownership of the bar since Kivan has been gone so long. Says I should retire myself.

Ya know Marcus, come to think of it; it was right around the time I found you.” He scratched his brown dog behind the ear, “Thank you for listening old timer. I think Tria should get the bar too.”
                Carthon threw the ball out the bar door, his old dog sprung up like a pup and chased after it.