Javier fumbled about as he waited for you or John to do something. The man in front of you three, supposedly the person who cared for the prized Braithwaite horses, rambled on and on about the steeds.

Javier opened his arms, shooting more glances at the both of you. John gestured towards him, allowing Javier to take the lead.

“Greaser, huh?” Javier hissed, mentioning the insult the horseman made towards him earlier, taking the butt of his gun and brutally whacking the man against the temple — who collapsed onto the ground cold.