There may be a hope; Glendin, if you're wise, start praying now that I find Bard alive.

If I don't--" The swinging doors closed behind him as he rushed through toward his horse.

Glendin stood dazed, his face mottled with a sick pallor.

Then he moved automatically toward the bar.

Murphy hobbled down the length of the room on his wooden leg and placed bottle and glass before the deputy.
"Well ?" he queried.
Glendin poured his drink with a shaking hand, spilling much liquor across the varnished wood.