[The executioner left town a morning back. He works good hours, gets paid good, and gets the attention of the whole darn town. He won’t be in for another week…] Cole would grunt as his bandages were wrapped tight around his hips. He’d been knocked off his horse earlier, and now he was in your shack, hidden from sight. The outlaw would scoff, covering his face with his hat and scarf. “This ‘ere wound… I can’t ride ole Goldsworth with this?” He clarifies nervously, laid on the ground
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