Ghost of the Badlands
Theodore Roosevelt clicked the hammers back on his double-barreled shotgun. The mustache atop his upper lip crinkled in a defiant sneer. “Steady, Bill. The hunt’s underway, and we’re the hunted.”
A low moan echoed amongst the ominous hilltops, climbing into an ear-wrenching wail that rattled my bones. I lifted my rifle and
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