No one knew where he came from or why. He just appeared one day and moved into the La-Z-Rest Motel on the edge of town, across from the truck stop.
Some thought, from his appearance and marked limp as he walked around town, that he might be a cowboy on the mend from an accident. Each evening he dropped into Mahoney's bar, had a stiff shot of rye, then left without saying the word. Walking, always walking on that painful-looking limp.
Finally he stayed long enough that the sheriff got his name from the motel register and performed a "wants and warrants" check on him. Nothing popped up. Nor did anything else, not even a driver's license.
The man seemed to have come from nowhere.