The Trading Post

Calhoon's General Goods is probably the second-biggest building in town, not that that's saying much. As far as information goes, it's probably easier to get in a saloon, but ain't no one coming out this far is going to do so without supplies ... and you have a feeling that there's something you should see in the store anyway.

You push in, and the little bell announces your presence.

"Howdy, partner!" comes a man's cheerful voice from behind the counter. The guy is dressed in a fancy striped shirt, with suspenders. He smiles cheerfully, causing the handlebar edges on his waxed moustache to curl upwards. "What can I interest you in?" he asks.

You survey the small shop, and notice a number of dry goods, some pistols, and some old, outdated magazines. Nothing terribly unusual for this kind of place. Something in his smile, though, says he knows more than he's letting on.

"Information," you reply.

"Well," he chuckles, "That's a commodity just like any other. What've you got to trade there, son?"