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My tale is a tale of death and ultimately love, as most tales of the West really are. It is a tale that takes several twists and turns through the fabric of fate, ending ultimately where it must. However, it begins with a tale of theft.My name is Hurit. I was given this name because of my ability to steal horses. I do not know how I acquired this trait. I can surmise that the creation spirits were kind enough to give me skill, cunning and understanding...
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When he rode into the town itself, the changes were a lot more stark and prominent. There were definitely more people in the town now. More places had electricity, and telephones. The old gunslinger couldn't help but gawk a little at the horseless carriages that rolled along the neat, paved main road. He never imagined there would come a time when boxes could run on themselves and not need horses to pull them along. Granted the horseless carriages...
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The bank is being robbed!" cried a panicked townsman running into Sheriff Bean´s office."Time to go to work, Sam," Bean said, with a grin. He grabbed two shotguns off the wall, threw one to his deputy and they hurried out of the office to the bank.As they arrived at the bank, Bean and Sam were confronted by three armed men - faces covered by black bandanas – running towards their horses. Seeing the lawman, they immediately opened fire, wildly shooting...
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The stranger rode into town late in the afternoon. It had been a long ride from Silver Ridge to this God-forsaken one horse cow pie of a place, Billings Brook. From the looks of things, this place was just getting started rebuilding itself after having been burned down. Over half the buildings looked to be partially constructed, and the other half appeared to have been burnt down recently. The only place in town that looked to be nearly complete was...
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The flames flickered in front of the bounty hunter, as he sat alone in his little camp. He had no one for company, but his guns and his coffee. He had a horse tied nearby, but he did not consider the animal as company. He had taken it from someone he had shot and killed and there was no bond between them. He was cold to the animal and the animal showed likewise feelings. No, for all intents and purposes, the bounty hunter was alone.
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Enrique Cortes nodded as he rode with Salazar. The two men rode their horses outside the church grounds. Cortes had rode with Salazar for quite some time since his youth, and was now a young man of barely 21. Admittedly, he did not like Salazar, or his methods to keep power. Cortes grew to manhood with a healthy respect of what Salazar was capable of. He only rode with him because he felt he had no choice. After all, Salazar was a wealthy man, and...
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The bounty hunter had just hitched his horse and was about to settle down to the business of securing a proper place to stay and recharge, when a woman approached him."Hola Gringo." she said.The bounty hunter turned and saw that she was young and quite attractive. Her long, dark hair flowed naturally from her head to her shoulders. Her eyes were large and quite inviting. Her lips were full and red. The dress she wore was not revealing, but hugged...
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Simon Michael Johns kept walking straight ahead through the small town's main road. He did not look around him, but merely kept his gaze straight ahead. The small and sleepy town did not look any different from the other towns that Simon drifted through. As the gunslinger "Swift Mercy" Johns, he had seen his fair share of gun battles, and had drifted through many towns in his travels. After a while, they all looked the same to him. The buildings and...
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Dillon was ten and worked at the livery stables. He fed the horses, groomed them, and did his favorite duty-mucking out the stalls. He worked every day from six a.m. until nine a.m. when he went to school. Then, when school let out around three o'clock, he went back to work and worked till seven or whenever he finished bedding down the new arrivals. On the weekends, he worked six a.m. until three p.m. both days. Today was a Tuesday, and he was late...
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Young Jeff Carvers ran as fast as his legs could carry him. He was a young man, and in fair health. He was a good sprinter, and used to hard work, but there was no way that his legs would be able to outrun a horse.Jeff heard the hoofbeats beating down behind him. It was hopeless, but Jeff still ran. His very life depended on this, and he had to do something. Unfortunately, there was just no way he could win this race."Gotcha!" Jeff felt the hard and...
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The events that would lead to the showdown of mountain men vs the Arikara tribe actually began in May of 1823, in South Dakota. It was here in the vast expanse of prairie land that extended as far as the eye could see in all directions that a motley crew contingent of men and animals traversed. The contingent was definitely a strange and colorful lot. They were composed of pack mules and horses that wearily carried the men and their supplies on their...
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A daring bank robbery leaves one robber wounded and the bank manager dead. Sticking to their original plan the two robbers leave town separately to allay suspicions, planning to rendezvous in the nearby forest and split the loot. But even the best of plans can go arie.A young farmer out hunting mistakes the wounded robber for a wild animal and accidentally kills him. While searching through the dead man's belongings he comes across the money from...
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That night the darkness swallowed the landscape outside of the windows. Nothing was visible from the comfort of indoors. A cold wind blew as Gilbert herded his horses into the security of the sturdy barn. He held his arms close to his sides, shivering as he quickly paced back to the front door of his home. He slid the lock across, bolting it shut from the inside. His boots slipped off his tired feet with ease, collapsing in a leathery heap on the...
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Thomas Crane was never really one for company. The man always worked best alone. Thomas was a rough sort who preferred the company of his horse and dog more than people. This innate nature of Thomas to stay away from the company of people usually caused him a lot of trouble. Oftentimes, Thomas even believed that he was more than a little cursed. After all, wasn't it written in the Good Book that "No man is an island?" Or that "the greatest love that...
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That night the darkness swallowed the landscape outside of the windows. Nothing was visible from the comfort of indoors. A cold wind blew as Lance herded his horses into the security of the sturdy barn. He held his arms close to his sides, shivering as he quickly paced back to the front door of his home. He slid the lock across, bolting it shut from the inside. His boots slipped off his tired feet with ease, collapsing in a leathery heap on the floor....
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I came upon the small shack in the middle of the woods that one, fine day. The sky was blue with nary a cloud in sight, and I could hear the birds singing their delight and praise of such a wonderful day. I couldn't help but smile as I noticed how agreeable the weather was. As a traveling writer I had seen my share of foul weather, after all. I had braved my share of rain and snow storms, howling tornadoes and everything in between.I got off my horse...
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