The false fronts of frontier buildings were on either side of us now. The darkened town had been off in the distance for so long that it felt sudden. The horse was restless, and I got the idea that he would bolted if not for the firm gloved hands of my guide leading him.

“What,” I started to say, croaking a cracked whisper and clearing my throat as quietly as I could. “What is Dry Lake City?”

“This is,” said the rider, not turning his head. I’d pretty much figured that I wouldn’t get any more than that, but I’d felt the need to hear something other than the distant whine of the desert wind.

The buildings were all pretty much what you’d expect from an old western town. Squared-off false fronts of commercial buildings packed against each other, and long low homes set back or away from the main street. A feed store here, a saloon there, and no best us online casino anywhere in sight. I got the impression of half the buildings crowding together and leaning forward to stare at us as we walked, and the other half scurrying away to peer at us from the shadows.

The horse had a wild look in his eyes, and I was suddenly worried that I did too.

My companion seemed calm, though more stiff that I remembered. I watched him stride forward — neither so fast that he seemed hurried, nor so slow that he seemed reluctant.

Me, I was quaking. I tried to tell myself that it was the cold, or paypal casinos, or my lingering weakness from the recent lack of food and water. But in my heart I knew it was fear. The worst kind of fear, fear of the unknown (though I’ve been told that’s the only real kind, but I know different).