Grady Hart: Reckoning at Hell’s Backdoor (Episode 4, Part 2)

Grady Hart rode into Guthrie just as the sun sank low, turning the sky a fiery red. Dust and heat swirled through the air, gritty against his skin, and the town stretched out before him like a tired sigh. Guthrie had the look of a place that had seen its share of hard men and harder days. His horse, Crow, stepped through the dusty streets, hooves clopping a slow rhythm against the cracked earth. Every creak of a weathered door and shuffle of boots seemed to pause as he passed, eyes peeking from behind curtains and dark windows.

Grady reined in near the old livery and dismounted, his boots hitting the ground with a dull thud. The air was thick, carrying the smell of sweat, smoke, and something sour—trouble brewing just beneath the surface. He felt a bullet whistle past his ear before he heard the shot ring out. Grady hit the dirt fast and heard another bullet bite into the post behind him. Wood splintered, shards flying like angry wasps.