Jake spurred his horse on as he rode out of the secluded spot he had chosen to spend his sleepless night. He had taken out about half of the men before they scattered like frightened birds and he escaped. He didn't like it. But he had still done it.

The sun beat relentlessly down on the dusty highway. Soon Jake began to see shimmers in front of his eyes, mirages of towns. He took a swig of water. It was warm and dusty, and didn't help.

"Broken Horn. Yes, that's where I'll go. I'll be safe in Broken Horn," he muttered feverishly to himself and shook his head. The heat was getting to him.

They passed through the Timber Valley town, where an enormous cleanup operation was taking place. The bodies of Crawlers were everywhere.

Jake's horse leaped clean over a pile of shapeless forms and, with a sickening lurch, Jake saw that it was a mound of townspeople. The lifeless eyes of the man Jake had spoken to, the one who had revealed Colt's name, stared blankly up at him. Jake looked hurriedly away.

The horse began to flag as they left the Timber Valley itself, and Jake encouraged her as the twisted pine tree marking the start of the Broken Horn trail loomed ahead.

She began to dance nervously as they leaped rail tracks and hit the trail. She wouldn't be calmed and Jake was forced to dismount to see what lurked around the next corner.

His heavy boots thudded dully in the dust as he warily approached the bend in the road. He was not prepared for what he saw.

The bridge over the river he had previously stopped at was shattered and the pieces had long since floated away. Beyond it, the village of Broken Horn lay in ruin. Nothing moved.

Jake ran back to his horse and jumped back on. She was sweating, and not just from the summer heat. She was terrified.

"Come on!" Jake shouted at her, but she fought against the bit and laid her ears right back. Finally, with an enormous and unexpected buck, she threw Jake and galloped off towards Lightning Tree.

He picked himself up, yelling profanities after her fleeing rump.

Suddenly he heard splintering wood as another building fell with a groan. Broken Horn was broken indeed.

Jake inspected the banks on either side of the river. There were a great many hoofmarks marring the wet sand and he could detect boot prints and scuff marks among them. A lone body was caught in a branch further downstream - most likely a villager.

With cautious steps Jake entered the village. The ox horn marking the entrance was in pieces on the ground. Jake bowed his head.

A movement. He whipped round, but saw only a tiny cloud of dust at the edge of a wall. A possum, maybe.

The town was deserted. Nothing stirred.

Jake approached an enormous pile of firewood, which turned out to be the old sheriff's office. A strong pine tree stood there, and Jake blanched as he rounded its girth. There hung the sheriff, swaying gently on a long rope. He was not long dead.

The cowboy cut his old friend down from the tree and loosed the rope from about the swollen neck. He laid the sheriff against the trunk of the tree with the man's hat over his face. Jake lowered his own to his chest. Sheriff Brown had taken him in as a young man, after he left Gold Creek. He was stern but fair and Jake had soon become fast friends with him. But now he was dead. A single tear traced its way down Jake's haggard face and dropped onto the dusty ground. The sheriff had died with the town, and now Broken Horn was no more.

Jake stood. Raised his head. A symbol cut into the tree caught his attention - a rough depiction of a horse. He had seen that once before, carved into the sheriff's desk back in Gold Creek. A rage such as Jake had never felt before boiled within him. "Colt Johnson!" he screamed. A crow cawed defiantly and flew away.

He lowered his head and turned to trudge back out of town. This was the precise moment that hands grabbed his arms and a gag was forced into his mouth. At once Jake began to kick and struggle like a salmon on a spear, but a bag was tugged over his head, his hat thrown carelessly on the ground. He couldn't reach his guns. He was trapped.