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The stagecoach you're riding in comes to a sudden halt. You and the two other passengers look at each other, confused. You know you're not scheduled to stop here, so you stick your head out the window and yell at the driver, "Why have we stopped?"
He jumps off his seat and says, "Horses need a rest. We're gonna rest here for maybe an hour, then be on our way again." With that, he walks away, going into what seems to be the saloon.
You roll your eyes, wondering how such an impetuous man ever got the job of driving stages.
Might as well stretch my legs, you think. You open the door and step out into the hot, dusty street. You raise your hand to your eyes, trying to block the blinding sunlight. You see that you've stopped in a quaint little town, stores lining the street and people bustling to and fro.
As your eyes travel along the storefronts, you hear a loud crash come from the saloon, followed by men shouting. You wonder what all the commotion is about. |
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