It was just as satisfying as the breakfast had been. Then he idled along the street, peering into windows and poking among aisles of goods. As the day progressed the presence of townspeople increased until Crowell City was actually busy. Not busy the way Denver can be but busy enough for a small mining town tucked away amid the peaks and the canyons of the backcountry. Longarm avoided the saloon where he had that bit of trouble earlier in the day. By five o’clock in the afternoon he was about on his last legs. He was tired after walking all night and getting more and more cranky as time wore on. Finally he had had enough. He turned and headed back toward his hotel, figuring to turn in for an early night and not even bother with supper. “You, you son of a bitch,” he heard from behind his back. “You sucker punched me, damn you,” the man with the loud mouth accused.
