I awoke in the desert, a figure looming above me.

You picked one hell of a place to take a siesta, mister."

That's all men said, straightening up and looking towards the horizon.

One large hand stroking his handlebar mustache thoroughly.

He was dressed head to foot and block, a large pistol hanging low on his hip.

What's it to you? I said a little sourly, not happy at being once again in another desert.

At least this one was blessed free of radiation.

Still, the sun burned my skin where it sat white hot fire in the hazy blue sky.

A man turned back to me, pulling his long, duster coat to one side, revealing a glittering

golden star.

The name's Erp, he said, looking me up and down.

Why Erp?

I'm law around these parts.

I want to watch your lip round me, boy.

I ain't known for my patience.

Aren't you tell old Wyatt and why you're doing out here wreaking of booze in the outskirts

of town?

What town, I blurted?

Oh, your mother at Christ, he's bad.

You answer every question to one of your own.

Tombstone, boy.

Stop your delay and answer the question.

...