The Gunslinger
Money in the bank. That’s the way you see it. When your boss, Hollis Sawthorne, organized this little project, he knew only the best man for the job would do. That would be yours truly. There isn’t anyone sharper, keener or saltier this side of Carson City.
So when word came down that Mr. Sawthorne was offerin’ thirty percent of the take from his new mine up near Damrea for recoverin’ some stolen property of his, you naturally jumped at the chance. You’ve had your eye on a piece of land up Damrea way for some time now, and heaven knows you’ve parted more than your share of me from their most trusted companion. What’s one more? With what you’ve got stashed added to the take of that mine, you could finally get away from dodgin’ bullets and find yourself some young filly to settle down with, maybe even raise some young ‘uns of your own.
But to business first.
Mr. Sawthorne says this nine-fingered fella up and went with a special piece of his personal hardware. Doesn’t know why, doesn’t care why. He just wants back what’s rightfully his. This thief, tattoo of a snake on his right wrist, perforated a few of Mr. Sawthorne’s finer men before making off with one of the finest sidearms you’ll ever lay eyes on, a revolver with some serious sentimental value to the old coyote. From what Mr. Sawthorne says, the barrel’s engraved with writing, but even though you can’t read a lick, he said you’d know it when you laid eyes on it.
That’s good enough for you.
There’s a stage headin’ out of Ferose in the morning that you’re supposed to be on. Headed for Pokerstown two days to the south. This feller that made off with Mr. Sawthorne’s pistol is supposed to show at this big poker game. Find him, fill him and come back him to collect.
Easy enough. Yessir, like money in the bank.