The Gambler

Carlson Flint stood in the doorway of the Sweetwater Saloon. The short silence which had accompanied his entrance into the building soon faded away as the other patrons of the bar returned to their business. Carlson hung his overcoat on the rack near the entrance as the creaky wooden door shut slowly behind him, suffocating the cold that had made its way into the foray. His boots snapped loudly as he made his way to the counter, and though the room was loud, Carlson's entrance did not go entirely unnoticed. As Carlson finally took his seat at the counter, the bartender approached.