There were four of them, heavily armed and well-provisioned for the ride ahead. Coming into the small town at a canter, they reined in their horses outside the dilapidated saloon and Climes slipped down from his saddle. “I"ll see what news I can find, if any.”
Leaving the others to survey the seemingly deserted town, the stench hit Climes like a fist as soon as he pushed through the batwing doors. Reeling backwards, hand clamped to his nose and mouth, he instinctively drew his revolver.
A small room opened out before him and the place was a mess. A makeshift bar and counter was overturned, smashed glasses and bottles mixed with broken pieces of furniture strewn across the floor. Amongst it all lay two bodies, their faces twisted into grotesque gargoyle masks of death, the blood dried bla
