A stray beam of moonlight filtered into the saloon set and glinted off the long barrel of the Colt. Hallam spun the cylinder, checked the loads.
Then he reholstered the gun, strode to the batwings, and pushed through them, like he had hundreds of times in the past, both make-believe … and real.
This wasn’t make-believe. This was a showdown. A real live showdown.