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Mon, Jul 6, 8:05 PM CDT
Entry #57 by mmitchell_houston
Word spread quickly, first from saloon to saloon, then to the bawdy back rooms where the “soiled doves” plied their trade. This angel did not ride a pale horse, but came alone on foot. When he strode into town they could taste fear… and it burned like copper on their tongues. The marshal had arrived.
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