Chapter Two Three Seconds in Hope

Hope Town stood beside a dry river. Calling it a town was generous. It was more like a row of wooden buildings too stubborn to fall over. The main street was a single strip of dust deep enough to swallow horseshoes. Along it stood a saloon, a blacksmith shop, a general store, a stable, a town office, and a little church with a crooked cross. At the far end, a new railroad office had been raised, its windows cleaner than the church's. Jack rode in at ten in the morning. He did not circle around, and he did not cover his face. Old Bill moved slowly, but one person after another stopped working as Jack came down the street. The blacksmith held his hammer in midair. The storekeeper peered from behind his door.