Bright light and lively music spilled out of the thin slats of the swinging doors that led inside. Sam slowly pushed one of them open and looked around, keeping his left hand near his gun. It paid to be careful when tracking down men, especially in a unfamiliar place, and if the locals thought he was dangerous, then all the better. Maybe they’d be less inclined to cheat him.

Judging by the amount of people seated at the bar or playing cards at round tables that horseshoed around a dancing square, Sam guessed that the majority of the town was here. They didn’t look as broken down as the buildings would indicate. Instead they almost uniformly had an air of stubborn resolve, as if they intended to outlive the worst that the devil, or God for that matter, could call down upon them. One woman, a plump blonde, swayed drunkenly on the dance floor by herself, dancing to music played by a spindly piano-man.

A husky voice cut through the noise. “Hey ugly, you’re letting the flies in. Come on in and pull up a stool.”