Chapter Two Three Seconds in Hope

Two men rolling whiskey barrels lowered their voices. The news had arrived before him. Three Titan gunmen had come in during the night crippled and bloody. One with a broken wrist, one shot through the shoulder, one with his nose smashed flat. Before the fat one collapsed into the doctor's office, he had managed one sentence. "The Walker boy is back." By morning, all of Hope knew that one man who was supposed to be buried had failed to stay dead. Jack tied his horse near the trough and walked into the Blue Snake Saloon at the center of the street. The place smelled of tobacco, sweat, cheap whiskey, and damp boards. More than twenty pairs of eyes turned toward the door. The piano player struck a wrong note and stopped.