Jack the Ripper in the Wild West
1 The saloon doors swung shut and a new person entered the establishment to no particular fanfare or even notice. Whorehouse music filled the room, and in a corner Rancher Pete had one of the regular girls all but pinned up against a wall. It had been years since Pete was a rancher, before what he called "the government men" had come and taken his ranch away from him, forcing him to make money the dishonest way. Challenging gunslingers to duels and then collecting what was bet against him at best, outright pillage at worst. He had an ugly wound covering half of his face which some said was a birthmark, though not in his hearing. He said that it was a burn from when the government men torched his ranch. The way he told the story, he’d risen from the flames like the broad-winged bird of myth, a pistol in each hand to execute the lousy bastards as they tried to turn on their horses and gallop away, bullets tearing through the thick Louisiana cotton of their overcoats. Neither he...