Dean stood there, in his jeans, pale blue long sleeved shirt, and boots. Across from him on the dusty street was a man that was the embodiment of mean; tall, dark with a long jagged scar running down the right side of his face. He stood there, his cold eyes burning into Deans.

The deputy had run for the sheriff, as the townspeople stood watching, whispering among themselves. Some making bets on the outcome on this day, July 16, 1871.

"Danny boy, ya goin ta die, and everyone will know that I kilt ya."

"You couldn't beat my grandma, " said Dean softly.

Kyle Branson went for his gun, and Dean drew as both fired. Poofs of white smoke rose into the air. Just as the sheriff ran out a look of panic on his face, as he yelled, "Dean!"

Two men lay in the street when the air cleared, one with blood pooling rapidly around the lifeless body and the other one with a busted wing. Sam ran over to his brother, and gently turned him over, "Dean?"

Dean opened his pain-filled eyes and looked up at his brother. "Did I win?"

"Yeah, you won. What were you thinking?"

"He challenged me, I ain't a coward Sam." Dean's voice had hardened as he squinted up at his brother. Sam stood and held out his hand to his brother and helped him to his feet.

"Never said you were, but he is or was a professional gunslinger. You could have been killed." Sam's fear for Dean reached his brother, and he sighed.

"I know Sam, sorry I worried you. But I can't hide. We have to solve this thing, before we can return to our time. We are trapped here."

"I know, let's go see the Doc."

"Nah I can take the bullet out, I hate doctors."

"Yeah well you ain't taking that one out, let the doc do it." He grabbed Dean's good arm and led him away, and two men picked up the body and carried it towards the undertaker. The tall skinny man waited with a smile on his face, with his sharp eyes measuring the dead man.

00000000000

It had all started several days ago, when Dean had wanted to visit some old western ghost towns in the area. Mainly he wanted to visit the one famous for the fight at the ok corral. Dean had more interested when he came across rumors of people disappearing in the area. Sam's research had revealed that in all 20 tourists had vanished in the past six months in that area never to be seen again.

Sam had been a bit reluctant to go, but Dean was adamant about it. He just had to see for himself. What a mistake that had been. For when they had entered, they found themselves stuck in another dimension. Where outlaws, lawmen, and honest people from the 1800s still existed, and they had to find the one who caused it and stop them. Solve the puzzle and get free.

Sam had found himself to be the Sheriff, by the name of Matt Fletcher, and Dean was a cocky gunfighter named, Danny Hunter. So now, they looked for answers.

0000000000

Sam had just put a pot of stew on the table as he and Dean dug in hungrily. At least the house was private and they could talk and get away from some of the danger. The slightly overdone biscuits and the undercooked stew were filling, as Sam didn't know much about using the old cast iron stove.

Dean ate in silence for a few minutes thinking, as Sam drank some coffee, wished he had the answers. "Sam, you know, it has to be one of the people here, and I think it is probably one of the outlaws."

"Could be, who is the most evil in this town?"

"Nat Campbell, Flint, or Razor Martin take your pick. This town is full of them. If we stay here too long we are going to end up in boot hill. Have you come across anyone who might be from our time?"

"None that I know of, maybe they think they are from this time?"

"Maybe and maybe they are all up in boot hill." Sam thought about that and then turned back to his dinner. Dean could cook the next meal he thought.

After dinner the two went to bed, the two small bedrooms weren't big but they would do. Both fell asleep quickly, and dreamed.