06 Brett Hand

It's been a few days since you last saw a town, The sun was beating down too hard on your skin; you drank the little water you had left in your canteen.

One step, two...

Your body was drained, the weight of exhaustion, lack of food, lack of something cool to drink gave way, you were aimless, you don't even remember where you were going or what your next goal was. You fall onto the dry earth and close your eyes, everything was black and you thought that would be your end.

Just when you gave up, someone picked you up and lifted you onto something. Was it something tall and furry? You quickly knew it must be a horse. And beside you rode swiftly on a horse someone whose face you couldn't quite see, you only noticed hair radiant in the sun, a hat, and a somewhat broad back; obviously it was a man, one who rescued you. When you finally open your eyes you notice that you are in a kind of chamber, there was a kind old woman who put a cold cloth on your forehead, next to her, that same man who had rescued you.

He smiles at you, noticing your eyelids barely lifting. "Ah, ya' 'wake," he replies in a warm and welcoming tone. "good thing I saw you; ya could 've been dinner for some damn vultures." He laughs softly. "The name is Brett Hand, Sheriff of this county." He mentions, adjusting his hat in greeting. "May know yar' name, Friend?"