You slam your palms on the bar and shout, "Somebody here knows where he is and that person is gonna tell me! Where is Rattlesnake Slim?"
The bartender stares at you blankly but says nothing. In a moment you notice his eyes flick over your shoulder. You start to turn to look, but the click of a revolver being cocked stops you cold. "I'm right here," comes a familiar voice from behind you.
"You'll burn in Hell, Slim," you say. His only reply comes with a spray of gore, brain, and skull.