With a shake of his head, Grant took a look around but if he had to choose one word to describe the sight that met his waiting eyes as he stepped off that train it would be: Unimpressive.

The train stop as Shady Belle proved to be one wooden shack with a guy behind a barred window passing out tickets. Grant tipped his hat at the man and shot him a friendly half smile while the aging boards of the platform creaked under his feet and moaned with the effort of holding him up. A few people bustled about the platform but no one paid him much mind. A young girl with long, tangling hair cried for candy and her mother shushed her with a sharp scold. An older boy with long hair tussled with a toddler as their dad bought tickets.

It wasn’t until the trail pulled away with a sharp whistle that Grant realized he and Gavin were the only ones left standing on the platform. No one wanted to get off at the dingy little town in the middle of nowhere.

The pair left the platform and walked into the town beyond. Well, if you could even be so kind as to call it that. It was more of a street, really. Just a few small buildings scattered across a lane spoke for the city they’d come to see and not a one had so much as a sign in front of it’s shabby walls. Shady Belle looked like it’d been lost to the world years ago.

Evening was just starting to fall over the quiet town. The dark of dusk crept in at every corner and stained the streets with the dull purple of twilight. The glass windows speckling the sparse buildings were dark even at that early hour and not a soul crowded the lonesome streets.

“Early to bed, as they say.” Gavin commented with a shrug.

Grant offered an uncommentable hum of acknowledgement and slung a thumb through a loose belt loop as he glanced down the empty road. Down the street aways, the windows of one wooden building glowed a sepia orange in the lavender twilight and the tinny sounds of an untuned piano floated on the air.

“Place looks lively.” Grant commented, nodding towards the building. “Could be a saloon,” he pointed out and began in heading that direction.

“ ‘Sidering the size of this place, it’s probably the only saloon.” Gavin snorted dryly as he turned to follow the sheriff.

“That’ll make our search a lot easier then.” Grant chuckled. The man slowed up just in front of the building and let his eyes trail over the scene. He dipped his hat slightly and kept moving at a leisurely pace past the saloon, not wanting to draw attention to himself. If they could keep the element of surprise on their side, maybe they could make this quick and clean.

The Kid was feral - and feral animals didn’t react well to being cornered.

A few horses were hitched just out front of the building. A painted mare shook her mighty head and tossed her pale mane. A stout, grizzled old thing snorted at the young filly’s antics and pawed at the ground.

It was neither of these proud creatures that caught Grant’s attention but rather the black splotch of midnight standing just to the right. Too prideful to be near the others, with long neck extended high and elegant head held with undaunted nobility; the horse bore no saddle nor held any bridle between its teeth. It lifted a poised hoof as Grant turned then lowered it gracefully back to the ground with a offended huff.

“Well, aren’t you just a show pony.” The sheriff chuckled as he drew to a halt before the creature. The man tried to extend a hand out to pet the animal but she jerked her mighty head away from his touch with a disgusted shake of her shimmering mane.

“This is his horse alright.” Grant tossed over his shoulder as he let his unwanted hand fall back to his side. “You stay out here ‘case he tries to make a run for it. I’ll go in and nab him.” The sheriff commanded, turning back to his deputy.

Gavin gave a curt nod, face serious. The man’s thick eyebrows dipped with a heavy scowl and his lips twisted into a straight line as thin as paper.

Grant braced a hand on the top of his revolver where it stuck out just above the silver metal of his belt buckle and began up the steps. The swinging doors were carved into elegant slopes and stained a merry red. Gold trimming ran over the smooth curves of its choppy design and glimmered in the dying light. When the man pushed them open, the sounds of the bar inside exploded out into the night like a wave sweeping over the darkness.

The sounds of people chattering noisily and making a ruckus flooded the lawman’s ears. The clinking of glasses was accentuated by the merry tune of men guffawing heartily at their own jokes and ladies giggling along politely. The piano man set up in the corner of the saloon played a jaunty little ditty, the crystal clear notes crying out from the old thing like a cat screaming under the cruel grip of a rocking chair. All of it came together in one great symphony of chaos but it was a familiar sort of chaos, almost inviting in a way.

Grant pushed the rest of the way inside and let the doors swing closed behind him with a noisy clatter. The saloon was wide and sprawling, with wooden floorboards creaking under the sheriff’s boots and a long bar sprawling along the empty walls. In the murky shadows of the high roof, the gray silhouette of a wagon wheel hung from the ceiling and from its spokes dangled a few flickering kerosene lamps. The wavering light cast the whole room in a deep, warm orange but couldn’t hold up, letting the life around fade into dark nothingness every few moments as the weak flames spat against an unseen wind.

Most paid the man no mind. The only person that even glanced up as he made his way through the saloon was the bartender. The guy swiveled a scrap of a rag over the same spot of counter as he had been but his eyes trailed the sheriff, boring into him like the curved point of a skinning knife.

The man was an ugly sort of bloke, with a thick face and a scraggly handlebar mustache patching over his heavy jaws. Greasy, black hair hung limply over sharp brows and arched cheekbones like seaweed washed over an ashen shore. A ghost walking couldn’t have held a candle to the feller.

Grant might’ve commented on the guy’s frankly rude staring had he not been taken completely off guard by a voice behind him.

“Howdy, Sheriff.” The Kid’s honey tones whispered just inches away from his ear.