Jake watched the stranger as he tied up his horse outside the saloon. He was shielded by a low wooden shack belonging to an old man known as the Shuffler, the name earned by the way he walked.

Jake followed the figure inside and immediately attracted attention. Men got up and slapped him on the back in a friendly manner and the barman was already filling a tankard of whisky. The stranger was the only one who paid no heed and he was the one that Jake walked over to. Neither of them exchanged a word, and after a while the stranger got up stiffly and left. He turned around outside and spat in the dust. Jake watched. It was a challenge, he knew, but he couldn't be bothered. He had to know where this stranger was going, but he couldn't leave without being conspicuous.

He looked at the women leaning flirtatiously against the bar and had an idea.

"Aye, she's a pretty one!" a man hollered and the others joined in. Jake made his way up the creaky wooden stairs amid choruses of, "Good choice, the finest wench I've ever met!" and, "She's real good!" The owner of this last comment roared with laughter and so did the rest of the saloon. Jake winced. The pretty woman hanging off his arm didn't deserve all this, but it was her own fault. She could have taken the steamer to better towns like Dustville or Broken Horn.

She went into the washroom to 'refresh herself', as she put it.

The old sash window protested as Jake forced it up, but eventually the furnace air made its way inside. He could make out the figure of the stranger in the distance. See the dust trail.

Jake slid out the window and shimmied his way down the side of the bar to where his horse stood sweating in the heat. He untied it and swung up into the saddle, kicking it on. He was out of here.

***

It was high noon and even the birds were wilting. It was no fun riding in this heat.

Jake vaulted to the ground next to a river and splashed water on his stubbled face. The horse waded right in and took a long drink. They had gained ground on the stranger and were almost at Lightning Tree - the river bend was a mile marker. Five miles left.

Jake scanned his surroundings with a watchful eye. Bandits walked these roads, hungry for money and men to kill. They always knew the fat prospectors were easy pickings and skeletons littered the roadside. A reminder that not everyone was lucky.

An eagle screeched overhead and Jake turned in time to see it land across the river. He paled suddenly as he caught sight of a moving mass making its way down the slope of a distant mountain and disappearing into a band of trees. The sweat slid down his back, but this time it felt cold. He had to warn people. They were back.

***

Jake rode hard for Lightning Tree, and breathed a sigh of relief when he passed the ruined conifer. He was in safe territory now. He was still mindful of that seething hulk of bodies moving towards civilisation but knew that the townspeople would be ready for the attack. The Crawlers were always welcomed with guns.

The sheriff sauntered towards the lone cowboy with a grin on his face. Jake knew the man was drunk, like every sheriff in every town was at this time of day. He plastered his own smile onto his face.

"Got any more of 'em, Sam?" he asked, sliding to the ground.

"As many as you could dream, son," Sam slurred, gesturing wildly to his office where prisoners were kept and waving his hands. A bottle of whisky dangled from one of them. That was all that anyone drank around these parts.

Jake suddenly lost interest as he saw the stranger coming out of an outhouse, shaking his raven hair.

Jake pushed past the woozy sheriff and melted into what little shadow there was in the blazing sun. The man was talking to his horse.

"Almost there, girl," he smiled wearily, giving her a pat. "Then it will all be underway." He vaulted on and hurried off.

Jake ran back to his own horse to resume his pursuit. Almost where? What will be underway? He left the town with more questions than he had arrived with.