The Faded Dust
The dust in the town square of Harrow Creek did not settle; it hung in the dry, October air like a suspended judgment, coating the cobblestones and the upturned faces of the onlookers in a fine, gray powder. Sergeant Elias Thorne stood at the edge of the crowd, his service pistol leveled at the chest of a man who had long since stopped resisting. Thorne’s right hand trembled, a violent,...
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