The bar fell silent as the old man walked in. He was a tall man with long white hair and a broad-brimmed hat hid the features of his face. His clothes, while gentlemanly had been well worn and were bespeckled with all manner of long-dried remains of mud and clay. A rifle was strapped to his back.
The bartender motioned to a sign that read Check Firearms at the Door. The man removed the rifle and left it at the door. The bar-patrons returned to their previous engagements and the man sat at the bar. "Whiskey," he ordered without looking up.
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