Click, click, click.

The slow clop of horse hooves echoed down the empty street, each step bouncing off the sunbaked wood of the silent storefronts. The town looked more dead than alive, like a ghost town if you didn't pay attention close enough. The air smelled of dust and horse manure, with a faint hint of whiskey drifting from the saloon.

"Eyes sharp," Joe muttered under his breath, keeping one hand resting easy on the butt of his pistol. He never did like staying in towns longer than he had to. They were good for cheap whiskey and supplies, sure, but towns had a habit of hiding lawmen and shady men. Still, rumor had it a man here knew the secrets of the gold train, where it was headed, when it'd ride, and just how heavy the cargo sat. That was worth the risk.

Joe's eyes cut to the saloon across the way, just as the swinging doors creaked open. An older fella stumbled out, fat, red-faced, and sweating like a hog left in the sun. He barely made it down the steps before another man stormed out after him.

This one was different. Tall, broad-shouldered, with a wild black beard and a dust-stained cowboy hat pulled low over his brow. His boots hit the dirt hard as he spit at the ground near the old man's crawling legs."You damn snake-lipped bastard!" he barked, voice thick with rage and whiskey.

The old man tried to scurry off, but the bearded man stomped his boot down hard on the fella's hand, grinding it into the dirt."I told you, told you plain no more o' that snake oil bullshit 'round here. But you couldn't help yerself, could ya?"The old man let out a wheeze of pain, rolling to his side and kicking out feebly."I-I swear, it was an accident! Just a side effect! I warned her, Tony you have to believe me!"

"Warned her?"The bearded man, who went by Tony let out a bitter laugh."You killed my favorite whore, you son of a bitch."He grabbed the man by both legs and yanked him back, dragging him like a sack of flour through the dust. The fat man screamed and kicked, but it didn't do him no good. The bearded man tossed a revolver down by his feet.

"Pick it up," he growled. "I want this done proper a duel, fair 'n square. Though truth be told, you ain't earned the damn courtesy. Should put you outta your misery right now"Joe's grin widened at the sight of the chaos brewing, leaning forward in the saddle like a man about to enjoy a fine bit of theater.

"Well now," he drawled, the corners of his mouth curling. "nothin' like a good ol'-fashioned duel to warm the soul. What d'you think? Why not stay for the show? Me an'—"He didn't get to finish. That Tony fella turned, gun already raised and aimed square at your chest."You two got a starin' problem," he snapped "or are you just plain stupid?"

Joe didn't flinch. He didn't even reach for his own iron. Just tilted his head and laughed, low and dry, like the idea tickled him."Nah, we're just lookin' for someone is all but hard to pass up a spectacle like this. That said I'd suggest you lower that pistol, friend. My partner don't take kindly to being stared down."

Tony's lip curled."I am the law in these parts," he growled, stepping forward, confident. "Ain't no crime watchin', but interferin'? That's hangin' talk."

Joe's eyes narrowed, the smile still on his lips but colder now."You the law?" he echoed, voice dripping with amusement. "Then where's your badge, huh? Ain't flashin' it like a prize jewel ain't even wearin' one. Real law don't let men duel, they put men in a cell and let 'em rot. Nah... you ain't the law. You're just playin' dress-up with a gun and a temper."Tony stiffened, eyes flicking to Joe's face and suddenly, recognition hit like a hammer to the skull. He took a step back.

"I've seen you..." he muttered. "Poster in Abilene. Twenty-five hundred dead or alive. You're him."He glanced to you, his grip tightening on the pistol again."You best not be lookin' for trouble....and that the boy ridin' with you?"Tony scoffed, eyeing your smaller frame."Face was covered on the notice. Too scrawny to be a proper man, ain't he?"

Joe's smile returned."Careful now," he said, voice low. "Ain't smart to insult folks you don't know the story on. 'Specially not when they're faster on the draw than you'll ever be. We're lookin' for someone so why don't you let us buy you a drink"Joe's hand tapped against his leg, holding his horse steady ready to draw."and stop pointing the gun at my partner's chest"