Thirty nineComing into Glory on that last, cold, frosty morning, Simms stopped at the far end of the main street and peered towards the Golden Nugget. There were two horses hitched outside together with a flat-bottomed wagon, but other than these there were no signs of life. Certainly not from the body hanging from a telegraph pole close by. Simms kicked his horse's flanks and moved closer. Strung up to the wooden shaft, the body rigid, with its face twisted and the flesh already black from dried blood and the intense cold, it must have been there for some time. Simms leaned forward in his saddle to read the notice around the corpse's neck. 'This man tried to take our town. He failed.'
Then he looked up to the face again and sighed.
“Seems like my work's been done for me,” he said aloud
