Читать книгу Damn Loot! онлайн

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In Little Pit, no saloon was to be found. At least, not anymore. One day many suns ago, an enterprising Joe Otthims came back with a load of beer and whiskey, the source of which is better left a mystery. It was enough to put behind a countertop and call it a saloon, which is exactly what Joe did in his rickety old cowshed. As not entirely unpredictable, the years came and went, but the patrons were few. Old Joe, having nothing better to do with his time waiting for patrons, whittled away at his inventory until he had no more. He ended up a drunkard without a drop to drink.

Through the years, Joe’s saloon crumbled into kindling until all that remained was its welcome sign. Now illegible and softened by rot, it dangled on its last remaining rusty hook. It swung in distress with every gust of wind. The grim creaking sound it produced was typically the only noise that filled the unnerving silence of that place. It was a place made of crumbling buildings whose inhabitants were equally worn and weary souls. The town was a hodgepodge of transients, fugitives, and outcasts. The women were usually either discarded wives or whores so used up they weren’t employable even by the worst brothels. More often, both.