The Faded Frontier
The wine was corked, and the silence that followed was not the polite pause of a toast, but the heavy, suffocating weight of a held breath. Elias Thorne, Sheriff of Oakhaven, stood at the head of the long mahogany table, his hand resting on the hilt of a service revolver that had not been fired in a decade. He was forty years old, a man whose face had been carved by twenty years of service in...
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