Cityfolk: Western Horror

The snick of a razor being stropped made him bolt upright in his bunk. It was just one-eyed Carly, sharpening his razor above a bowl of soapy water, but he could relax. He knew the sound of the razor too damn well. "Carly, d'ya mind?" he asked. "Rough enough getting sleep after having been out on the range all week. I got used to the sound of the crickets and not the flatulent outbursts of my bunkmates." Carly laughed. "Cityfolk," he said. "You'll get used to it. Reckon we all will." He flopped back on his bunk and stared at the ceiling. Cityfolk, he was, all right, but it had been a long time since he went into the city. The city was where they were, in among the train stations with their clouds of smoke and down in the sewers.

Inspiration: None.
Story Potential: Medium-high
Finished Length: Short story.
Notes: A Western horror short story! What will they think of next?