Hank Stevens was one of five men listening to George Miller at Noisy Nellie’s, Flatrock City’s lone saloon. Numerous wreaths decorated the walls for the holiday season, giving the place a modicum of respectability. Miller was talking above the piano playing, petty arguments permeating the establishment, occasional gunshots, and general din. He was a man approaching 50 years, with short, slightly gray hair and a solid physique. He summed things up. “That’s about it. Mr. Coleman can use you five men. You can start early as tomorrow. Show up at the Double O by sun up. We finish sun down. Six days a week. Work’s hard, but the pay’s good and you get a hot lunch and a bed. Dress warm. It’s cold. And I know everyone can use some extra cash this time of year.”
Hank Stevens was one of five men listening to George Miller at Noisy Nellie’s, Flatrock City’s lone saloon. Numerous wreaths decorated the walls for the holiday season, giving the place a modicum of respectability. Miller was talking above the piano playing, petty arguments permeating the establishment, occasional gunshots, and general din. He was a man approaching 50 years, with short, slightly gray hair and a solid physique. He summed things up. “That’s about it. Mr. Coleman can use you five men. You can start early as tomorrow. Show up at the Double O by sun up. We finish sun down. Six days a week. Work’s hard, but the pay’s good and you get a hot lunch and a bed. Dress warm. It’s cold. And I know everyone can use some extra cash this time of year.”