About three weeks after they’d left Willow Crick, they rolled into Woody Draw. It was a warm day, and the townsfolk strolled along in clothing suitable to the weather.
Woody Draw was a pretty little town with maturing oak and chestnut trees along the main street, and it seemed to be a thriving community. Along with the usual businesses—bank, general store, hotel, livery stable, and two saloons—there were two houses of worship to balance out the saloons, as well as a telegraph office, a laundry, a bathhouse, and the town newspaper. And of course, the jail.
A sawmill at the far end of town appeared to be Woody Draw’s chief form of employment, and Sharps noted that seemed to please Bart.
“This is great, Georgie,” he enthused. “We can get the wood for our house milled here.” He’d spoken a f
