Back the way you came.

Now that you've gotten to the twon square, and can see a fair distance in each direction, though the heat rising from the sand makes things blurry after a short distance, you realize that perhaps you've passed up the saloon to go on a wild goose chase. Chances were, this town was goose free.

You turn and head back the way you came, watching the two sides carefully for the sign of the saloon. As you see it, you quicken your pace some, growing weary of the heat and hoping you'll find some water, or at least something to drink.

You take the small step up onto the wooden deck that erved as a sidewalk, then pushed open the salon doors, feeling oddly like Clint Eastwood must have and smiling at that. It seemed accurate to you. eastwood wasn't a real cowboy either.

The saloon is empty, the tables, apparently cheaply made, were cracking in the dry heat. The wood used to make the bar itself was actually warping and bowing in places.

No sign of life, but something about this place appeared unusual.

You look the place over, not noticing anything at first. Then, that second runthrough proving to be lucky today, you see the rose sitting on the table in the back corner of the place.

You walk over, feeling the need to look over your shoulder a few times on the way, and stop next to the table. The rose, appears fresh, and the smell tells you it is definitely real.

You hesitate, then reach down and carefully pick it up, gripping the stem gently as if it might shatter of disappear if you aren't careful.