Dust and Lead
The Arizona sun was a white-hot hammer, beating the life out of everything that dared to stand. Silas sat on the porch of a rotting shack, cleaning a Colt .45 with a piece of greasy rag. He was twenty-four, but his eyes belonged to a man who had seen the end of the world and found it boring. Silas had been a "ghost" for the Blackwood Gang since he was twelve. He had learned to shoot before he...
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