So this was Utopia, Arizona-style.
The man called Edge looked about him. The Promised Land it wasn't: one army post, two saloons and three whores. Add in a couple of rundown stores and an even more rundown church with a whiskey-soaked preacher and that was about it.
Not that Edge had come looking for the perfect society. Just a man, officially dead, suspected of still living and certainly a father. Leastways, the thin-faced woman with the squalling bundle in her arms had been sure enough about the last to put up the money for the search. And now the peace of Utopia was about to be disturbed: some old wounds opened up by Edge's questions and some new and very bloody ones by his actions.