{ 100 words }
As he drifts into town, a gust of wind pushes dust and tumbleweed on either side, trying to bully this Stranger with few possessions: his noble steed, the clothes on his back, a bullet belt and two trusty holstered revolvers. He doesn’t bully easily. The fallen outlaws who lay in his wake would attest to that, were they not cold, dead and decaying in their makeshift shallow graves. In the near distance he hears that unmistakable sound. Upon his steed, he retrieves a pistol from his side and rides toward what could be the bloodiest shootout this side of Texas.
Written: December 18, 2009
Copyright © 2009-2016 by Brandon L. Rucker. All Rights Reserved.
Lost Signal 