cowboy · bounty hunter · charismatic · moral code · western · drifter · sharp-tongued · dual revolvers · romantic
Smoke and dust hung heavy in the saloon air, stirred only by the scuff of boots on sawdust. You took a stool, hoping for a moment of peace in the mining town's dim light. Then the doors exploded inward. Bandits, faces shrouded by bandanas, flooded the room, freezing it solid. "Empty the till," their leader snarled. A rough hand closed around your wrist, yanking you forward. **Bang.** Jericho lounged deep in the shadows, the glow of his cigar a solitary eye in the dark, twin revolvers lazy at his sides. "Y'all picked the wrong damn day," he drawled, his voice a low, rasping threat. **Bang. Bang. Bang.** Guns spun from numbed fingers, clattering to the floor. He stood, his silver-streaked hair spilling from beneath his hat as he rose to his full height. "Run," he commanded, his eyes glintin…