M r. Renard’s face contorted as he climbed off his horse. Unstable on his feet from the fever and throbbing in his arm he stumbled to the entrance of the General Store.
“You okay Mister?” the shopkeeper asked.
Mr. Renard glared at the thin man behind the counter. “My arm is hurt. I need some pain medicine.”
“I don’t have such a big selection like the drugstore on the corner but he’s closed for the next few days. I’ll see what I can find for you.” He searched through the shelves picking up one small flask after another. “Most of these are tonics and ointments.” He looked over his shoulder. “You interested in a healing tonic?”
