Old inkslinger still hot on the trail of his elusive quarry

The sun beat down, a vulture circled on the thermals. A lizard flickered through the dust of the deserted street as I tied my horse to the rail and pushed open the doors of the cantina. I felt several pairs of eyes follow me to the bar.

I threw down a gold double eagle. "Set 'em up," I said. "Whiskey for whoever wants it."

"Si senor," said the barman, turning the coin over in his fingers until it caught the light and gleamed. "You are stranger in town, no? Have not seen you before."