Juno

The devil’s never come to me in a dream, but he has for Johnny Baker.

Caught north of Juno, nothing was the same after a job at a gold rush brothel nicknamed the Red Onion saloon went wrong. There isn’t much to security job, but when working girls go missing on your watch, somebody asked to answer.

Black kohl under his eyes. There wasn’t much for looking besides the circles upon his face. The gods had seen fit to bless others while he struggled against the binds of inadequacy.

None of the road traveling make up lent Johnny any of the compassion or intrigue he hoped for. Besides the pines and snow drifts, nobody lent Johnny anything at all. Nobody lends the dead or dying a hand when another is clasped round their own leg.