Twenty-NineIn the town of Twin Buttes, the sun, a blood-red orb, came over the horizon like the harbinger of something dreadful, mused Dixon, stretching his arms as he stood next to the river. Within those first few moments, a pulse of heat travelled across the land like a living thing and hit him full in the face. Beads of sweat burst out across his forehead and he cursed, swinging away to make his way to the water's edge, where he swilled his face to revitalise himself, gasping with relief.
From behind him he heard the unmistakeable snap of a branch, the sound amplified in that still place, where not even the gentle passing of the river could disturb the almost cathedral-like quiet.
Dixon eased himself around on his haunches, hand going to the g*n in his waistband. He scanned the tree
