Slaughter Gulch

You twirl your pistol out of its holster, catching the hammer with the heel of your hand, and fire. The barkeep takes a round to the chest and slams back against the liquor cabinet, shotgun firing harmlessly into the ceiling.

A mutton-chopped man sitting at the bar spins around and reaches for his sidearm, and from the corner of your eye you notice a dark-haired native with a knife poised to throw.