CHAPTER NINE
It was coming.
Soon. But not yet.
Trying to put a lid on his excitement, the Scarred Man took a drag of his cigarette and gazed out the window, at the long expanse of untamed wilderness before him. Acres and acres of flat, dusty earth, dotted with creosote bushes, punctuated every so often by a butte or a slowly rising chocolate mountain, part of the Bighorn range. Orange cream clouds spread across the sky, crowning the setting sun.
His home. His beautiful home. To think, he’d locked himself away from this for so long.
The bitter wind slapped his face, and he tipped back his cowboy hat and let the last rays of the day’s sunshine hit his face.
He smiled.
Well, he always smiled.
Even on the worst of his days, that grin was there. But today was a good day. A very good on
