“Two shots of whiskey, barkeep.” The old, grizzled cowboy with the gruff voice thought for a moment, then requested, “And a room for the night with company, if you catch my drift.”

“Carla,” Sam Malone called. “You’ve got a customer.”

Carla spun around. She may not have been a looker, but she was the best-kept secret in four counties. She was Heidi Fleiss before there was a Heidi Fleiss, the Hollywood Madame before there was Hollywood.

“Male or female?” she asked.

“What d’ you take me for?”

“Diane, Rebecca – front and center.”

The stranger observed them with a certain disinterested glare. “Reckon I can have ‘em both?”

“How much gold you got, partner?”

“Enough,” he slammed his gold on the bar.

“Right this way,” Carla smiled. Both women in his arms, the cowboy walked upstairs for some afternoon delight.

“You know Sammie,” Cliff, the know-it-all Pony Express rider, said. “They say prostitution is the oldest profession in the world.”

A fat man walked in the door.

“Norm!” everyone yelled.