Longwater, Kansas. Late July
"Fools! You're all fools!" said Old Man Hill, as he staggered backwards out of the saloon and into the muddy main street of Longwater. The saloon's owner, Roy, was standing in the door, wiping his hands on his apron.
"Next time, pay for your damn drinks. Or else I'll throw you out again." Said Roy, much to the amusement of the patrons. Roy was a former slave, and spent much of his early years working the land of his master. He was already big and strong before running away to fight for the Union. Hill, even as drunk as he was, knew that fighting Roy couldn't possibly end well.
"I know what I saw, god dammit!" the old man drunkenly yelled. "The Devil's in Longwater, and we're all doom!"
The old man picked himself from the mud and nearly fell back in once his legs started to quiver. He righted himself and limped down the street back to his hovel.
Not known for much other than propping up the bar of Roy's Tavern, Hill was known throughout the town as a drunken layabout who begged, borrowed and sometimes stole the money he used for drink. So when he came face to face with the Devil, not a soul believed him. Even Father Stone, the local priest, looked at him with skepticism.
"Goddamn idiots, all of them." he muttered to himself as he reached his alley where had been allowed to sleep. Though he was drunk and dead tired, he was afraid of what going to sleep.
Every time he closed his eyes, he could see the cold, black eyes of the Devil. Hill couldn't remember any detail about the demon except for his eyes. The Devil's voice was as cold as his eyes, but carried with it an edge of danger. He asked Hill his name, very politely at that.
Hill turned and ran as fast as his old legs could carry him back to the saloon. He got back to his favorite bar stool and told everyone what he saw. A week had past since that night, and the town had been laughing at him ever since.
The old man sat down on his thrown away mattress, wondering if he should try going to sleep again. He almost didn't hear the running feet and the panting breath until it on top of him...
----
Gene Silver woke up with a start, having been shook awake by Sheriff Wilcox. Ever since his mother died, Gene had taken to sleeping at the Sheriff's office rather than go home.
"Get up, son. There's been a murder." was all the old Sheriff said. The deputy nodded and began pulling his boots on.