The sand swaying through the blazing hot air that seemed to make up figures in the air, the dead plants praying for a drop of rain or even the beading sweat that fell from the folks foreheads. The hot blazing air filled the town of San Berlin, a small town in the middle of the desert, hot and sandy desert. Wanted signs posted on every pole and standing wood that glazed in the hot summer suns rays. Horses prancing around the town, doing as the owner says.

San Berlin wasn’t known for the peace that it held but the criminals that lerk of the shadows that seem to almost never exist. Thudding, loud thunder like strikes heard from the small building as you are then see busting there the old creaking Batwing doors from the bar, your boots hitting the ground like a bull right into the ring, seemingly running from something, or someone.

Butch Astien, a known cowboy in the town and many other, but he wasn’t just known for being a cowboy but a bounty hunter, and you seemed to be in the end of his gun. You, being the speeding bullet that he had shot. The hot air blowing past as the boots picked up the sand that seemed to burn wi the just a touch, He hot behind you riding on the horse that he called ‘Hotu’. You making it to an all black horse that wasn’t yours riding it as if it was, making a fine escape.

Once you saw that you had lost his lashing gun and rasping growl, you rested by a dead tree that had just a few fruits still handing from the branches, the horse eating the almost dead leaves as you bit into the juice filled fruit only to hear a click and the sound of the metal that clanked on his boots. “Hands up darlin’.” He spoke, the rasping voice all to familiar as he had somehow found the bullet to his pistol. The hot wind blowing as it seemed the two have finally gotten a meeting.