The saloon was quiet except for the creak of boots on warped floorboards. Sheriff Cole stood by the bar, his hand resting near his holster as he stared down Eli Granger. The outlaw leaned casually against a table, a cocky grin beneath his dusty hat.
“Town wants you alive,” Cole said, his voice low.
“Alive, huh?” Eli replied, spinning his revolver once before holstering it. “Shame. Alive ain’t how I left your brother.”
Cole’s lip twitched, but his hand stayed steady. Outside, the evening wind howled, stirring dust into the sunset’s dying light.
“You walk out now,” Cole said, “you’ll face a trial. Run, and it’ll end different.”
Eli chuckled, then stepped toward the door. “You ain’t drawing, Cole. Justice, or revenge—only one lets you sleep at night.”
Cole’s jaw tightened as the outlaw pushed the door open and tipped his hat. The sheriff’s hand twitched toward his gun… but stopped. In the fading light, Eli mounted his horse and rode away into the wilderness, leaving only hoofprints behind.
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