There was an amusing assortment of old appliances lying around: a microwave, a pottery wheel, and even a NordicTrak. The walls were kind of queer. The... were made of big stones, and sloping inwards. It reminded me of a medieval castle I had once seen in Europe-- but I couldn't imagine anyone living in a castle.The man sitting before me was dressed in a T-shirt and jeans. He looked to be in his late twenties-- a decade older than me. He was tanned, and clean-shaven. Our eyes met, and his stare. I tossed it onto the bar. The saloonkeeper put a bottle of whiskey onto the table."Join me, Deputy?" I asked.He didn't mind if he did. None of this "on duty" nonsense for Fuzzy Q. Jones."So what brings you to town, stranger?" Fuzzy asked, downing his first glass.I was about to explain when we were interrupted by a voice booming across the room."So you're what passes for the law in these parts?"We looked over to see two men standing in the doorway. They were obviously up to no good. It wasn't. More

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