A Coffin Full of Dollars Part 1

A COFFIN FULL OF DOLLARS

1863

The lone figure that approached the ghost town of Silverline moved with the grace of the undead. His clothes, which consisted of the usual tatters and rags of a drifter, were covered by a long black coat, that hung from his shoulders nonchalantly.  His black flat rimmed hat mirrored his head and pointed down to the dusty earth below.

Around his forearms were dark leather bracers that both had steel chains attached to them. Following along these chains, that stretch for three feet behind the figure, is a heavy oak coffin. It wears the scars that the hot landscape has inflicted upon it over it's journey. It's main distinguishing feature is the heavy, rusted lock in it's center. 

The man had traveled over 30 miles on foot with this burden and his face confirmed it. An educated guess would place this man in his mid thirties. The olive skin had been burned and damaged by the sun and sand. Across his jaw the straggling hairs that neither belong to stubble nor beard were wild and free.

He was well aware of the man that had been following him for the last ten miles.