9Santa Angelo was a 'once visited, best forgotten' kind of town. Dilapidated buildings mixed with several rundown saloons and tired whorehouses, with little else to make it into anything more than a brief stopping place. The streets were filthy, littered with rubbish, rotting food and other, unrecognizable things, mingling to create a sharp, unpleasant stench which struck the back of the throat. Dogs rummaged in the litter and in the side streets, fat rats sauntered lazily over stacks of rotting food.
But the beer and whisky ran freely.
Just the way Reece's men liked it.
They rode into the town in the late afternoon, the sun continuing to burn bright, their clothes stuck to their backs, the sweat stains large and stinking. As they dismounted outside the largest of the saloons, Reece war
