Blackrock Brothel
James McClane is on a mission. One man put his father in the ground and stole all that he built. Then, that man gathered five killers around him, left James for dead and killed the woman he loved. Time has passed but there isn't enough time in eternity to let James forget and all of them will pay. Smiling Turk is in town, and that means McClane is ready to put one of his bullets to work. It won't complete his revenge but that's just fine. He'll still have five bullets left.
An excerpt:
It was interesting, James thought, the sound of the night here. It wasn't like the desert in Arizona and California, and it wasn't like the mountains in Nevada or Oregon. It seemed like the desert with sparse vegetation but a four hours ride north would put him in forests and half a day south would bring him to the ocean. He could hear insects buzzing more than chirping and now and then the rustling of a ground squirrel or a lizard or, he supposed, some other small creature. The sound of the night was particularly loud because the bay was tied to a tree a mile back and he was still a mile from the medicine show camp. They appeared quiet anyway because he could see shadows as they moved by the fire but couldn't hear any of the laughs or shouts he expected from a group who would camp outside of town rather than close.
Of course, the quiet created its own difficulty because every crunching sound of his feet on the ground seemed as loud as a gunshot and worse, he knew his rage wasn't cold but hot. Cold would mean a carefully calculated stalking but he was far from calculating at the moment. At the least, they would know of his approach and because he couldn't keep himself from trying to mask it; they would assume it was a man planning to ambush but just not very good at it. With that thought in mind, he walked back to the bay, mounted her, and spurred her on to the camp. He'd already made sure his pistols and even checked the rifle in the saddle holster. He couldn't imagine needing it. In fact, he didn't feel confident he'd need the pistols tonight. It seemed far more likely Smiling Turk was in town for something to do with the railroad.
As he rode, he could hear voices, and the voices were convivial as near as he could tell. They grew quiet when they heard the bay and just when there was more light than shadow from the fire, he heard a voice
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