Junction 1880

Junction isn’t the kind of town where people go looking for trouble, and that suits George Wainwright just fine. He’s looking for a place where he and Maddie can make a home and build a life, maybe even get his business off the ground.

And if there’s a few good friends and a regular poker game, that’s all right too.

But people being what they are, sometimes trouble just finds you, no matter how much you might want to avoid it.

If the moon had been more than a sliver, he may have walked the shorter route through the poplar grove and known he was being followed. If his mind wasn’t buzzing with beer and the night, he might have noticed footfalls in the grass twenty or so paces behind him. But he didn’t, and instead got to his cabin weary and ready for sleep. He locked the cabin door and sat in the main room waiting for his mind to settle.

Suddenly the cabin door crashed open, wood splinters from the frame scattering away from the door lock. A dark figure appeared in the door, holding a five-shot revolver in its right hand. The figure laughed, and walked in through the door.