I see him standing there. He seems so invincible, but at the same time vulnerable in ways you could never imagine by just one glance in his direction. Under his black hat his blonde hair moves with the wind. When you look at his face you can see the years of grief, his emerald eyes show that he is in pain of some kind, whether physical or mental only he knows. As my eyes travel further down his body I see his dark clothes, and the duster that makes him look wraith-like when he moves. On his hips resides a pistol, a colt .45, with white ivory grips. The belt is made of black leather with conchos decorating it. His legs are long and sturdy. His boots are scuffed and worn. He is a man that most say to leave alone, but I know that deep inside he is a different man. A man who is loving and caring and does not want anyone he cares about hurt. They say he is the very essence of death, but they don’t know a thing about him. He is a man filled with grief and he believes he has nothing left to live for. He wants to die, or he wanted to until he met six very different men, but at the same time they were all very alike. So here is the bottom line, do not judge a book by his cover he just may deceive you.
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