Her cheeks were rosy as she began on her next drink. She had enough coin to stumble out of the saloon and still have money leftover for flour. That's how she figured it anyway. She looked away from the escalating scene. They were strange men looking to prove something to one another in a town that belonged to none of them. She thought that this was a thing she would never understand...

Gunfire. She flinched and stumbled off her bar-stool. She looked to see the men fall one by one with each crack of the pistol. Then she vaulted over the bartop and ducked under for cover. She broke a few glasses on her way over, so gave the barkeep an apologetic look as they crouched and waited for the gunfire to pass. It was like waiting out a storm.

The barkeep stood first, and arranged for the killing-strangers room and board then that man left. Most people left. The barkeep looked at Dustin. The barkeep looked around the quiet nearly empty saloon, then looked to Dustin. "Boy, next rounds on me boy if you help me cleanup. And I wont count you for the glass you broke neither." The barkeep went looking for a mop.

Dustin shrugged and nodded. She walked over to the pile of bodies by the card table. They already stank. They looked blankly upward. She took the first one by his boots and dragged him out into the streets for the crows of the undertaker to take care of him. Whichever got there first. Most likely the cloths. She doubted anyone would pay the undertaker for this lot to be properly put to rest.

She would have to tell the Old Man about this. She wondered what he would say, or if he would be to tired for even this news.