The clip-clop of his horse's hooves striking hard ground was the only greeting Johnathan received as he entered Laramie, aside from the occasional stares from passing townsfolk. He headed into the stabling. A young kid, maybe fifteen, walked out of the back of the barn.
"Morning. I'm looking to stable my horse."
"Five dollars to hold onto the horse and all his accessories."
It wasn't an unreasonable price. He reached into his pocket and withdrew an appropriate bill, and tossed the kid a quarter with it.
"Keep the change." He slid off his horse and helped the boy put up his saddle and tack, then pulled his Winchester out, gripping it by the barrel, nodded at the kid, and left the stable. Hunger rolled in his belly, so he headed for the cafe.