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  A LANCER CHRISTMAS STORY, 1869       Johnny put his rifle on the counter, leaving his saddlebags on his shoulder as he looked around. There was no-one else in the pokey hotel lobby and now that he’d walked inside, he could understand why. He’d almost tripped on a loose thread in a carpet so worn he couldn’t even make out what the pattern had been. But at least it was warm, thanks to a stove in the corner.     He turned back to the desk clerk, already smiling at him as if to say Johnny had come to the right place.     “You got a room?”     The clerk pushed his spectacles further up his bony nose. “You’re in luck, mister. I was full-up until Old Josh…well, let’s just say he booked out.” He pushed the register across then passed Johnny a pen.     Johnny dipped his pen then signed his name in the register before spinning it back around. The man read it, didn’t raise an eyebrow, but that smile dipped a wrinkle or two at the edge o...