The single, well-rutted narrow street of Rickman City, silent, dreary, and sleeping, snaked ahead of him. Cole stretched out his back and leaned forward to run his hand over his horse’s neck. He estimated the time as a little after six, taking his calculations from the slowly rising sun peeping over the top of distant mountains to the east. He expected the town to begin waking up shortly, for the citizens to emerge and set about their daily routines. He also doubted the numbers would be all that large. The entire town had an emptiness about it that spoke to him of abandonment mingling with a good deal of sadness.
He went to kick his horse forward when a figure caught his attention. A man, of indiscernible age, standing on the porch of what might have been his home. Dressed in longjohns, h
