CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Acting quickly, Jonas upturned the table at which he’d been drinking and loosed off several shots towards the batwing doors as they flapped shut. He screamed, “Channi, go take a look outside!”
“No way,” said Channi, flat on his stomach, edging towards a far corner. The one remaining oil lamp gave enough light for him to find a path to his chosen cover.
“Just take a look under the door, damn it!”
Rolling over onto his back, Channi stared up at the ceiling. He closed his eyes and counted to six. He would have counted further, but he could never remember what came next. He rolled again, three more times, taking himself closer to the saloon entrance. Turning his head, he squinted under the gap beneath the doors.
There was man on the opposite side of the street smoking
