Grokking the Fullness — Createspace

Soft light fell through the windows of the saloon. Tom avoided it, stepping out into the packed dirt of the street. Pulling off his hat he pushed hair behind his ears and leaned back to smell the night air. People were shouting and singing in the bar, but he ignored them. Blood was in the air and the scent led him onward. "You looking for your friend?" a heavyset bearded man asked from his place on the porch of a telegraph office. Tom nodded turning to the man but not leaving the center of the street. "I figured as much. You boys got a lot of balls wearing those duds in this town," he spit a thick stream of tobacco into the dirt, and waved his finger at Tom's jacket. "He was taken to the bunk house by the sheriff. I'm guessin' he didn't feel safe out here in that coat." The man spit again and watched as Tom walked on down the street without another word. The buildings past the saloon grew darker toward the end of the street, and they spread further apart until there were vacant lots between them. Turning left he could see the Inn. The second floor was lit by lanterns in the windows. Glancing down at his blue jacket he brushed his hands across the brass buttons. Dried blood stained the cuffs but it looked more like mud in the dark. - From "The Dead Man's Code" by Rob Gilchrist