Joe left the moment things started to warm up. He didn't want to get involved in any of that stuff. Apart from anything else, it was likely to draw attention to him, which was the last thing on his mind.
He sauntered out casually, hearing the shouts and crashes from inside with a wry smile. If there was one thing he'd learnt, it was never ever get a drunk angry. And never ever be a drunk. That was the golden rule, and so far it'd worked for him!
'Hey, Prospero,' he murmured, stroking the Mustang's nose lovingly. A cowboy without a horse was a fish out of water. He and Prospero had been together a good while now, they worked together well, and-
A second gunshot. But this one didn't come from behind in the saloon, no. It came from right ahead.
Not Joe's business. What did it matter to him? Everyone seemed to be brawling today. Probably the heat. That and a little too much to drink.
Shouts, and another gunshot. Coming from the... bank?
Joe grabbed his pistol from its holster and started to walk slowly towards the bank. This was serious, not just some petty brawl.
Suddenly, a man appeared running through the doors, blood streaming from a wound on his head.
'Help!' he yelled. 'Help! We're being robbed!'
And Joe ran into the bank.