Chapter 8
It was past high noon when Sharps rode into the little town. Sweat pooled under his arms, trickled down his back, and dampened the ends of his hair. He wasn’t too surprised the main street was deserted—the sun was beating down unforgivingly, and anyone with a lick of sense would be indoors.
He hoped he’d find Salida here. Until he did, he’d get the stallion and the gelding looked after. Then he’d see about a bath.
He rode the stallion to the saloon, dismounted, and looped his reins and the pinto’s around the hitching rail. He didn’t plan to be in the saloon long, just until he got some information.
After a pat to Twilight’s neck and a stroke to Sorrowful’s shoulder, Sharps adjusted the banjo case so it rested more comfortably against his back and entered the saloon.
It was c
