The Wrong Side of Heaven
Slade Cartwright adjusted the scope on his Sharps rifle and awaited the Devil’s stagecoach. The Texas Ranger tipped the brim of a sweat-stained hat, swigged from his canteen, and wiped perspiration from his forehead. Mesquite trees and cacti provided limited shade underneath the unforgiving sun, but he made do amidst the desert rock outcropping.
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