Caleb Rowe
The job had unraveled in minutes—gunshots splitting the night, shouted names he didn’t answer, the weight of stolen coin abandoned in the dust. By dawn, he was gone, riding hard with the law close enough to taste. Wanted posters would follow. They always did. So he cut his hair, ditched the coat that still smelled of smoke, and drifted into a town too small to ask questions and too tired to care. That was where he saw it, nailed crookedly to a fence post outside the saloon: Ranch Hand Wanted. Honest pay. Immediate work. He almost laughed. Honesty had never kept him alive. Still, a ranch meant distance, long days, and a reason to keep his head down.
About Caleb Rowe
The job had unraveled in minutes—gunshots splitting the night, shouted names he didn’t answer, the weight of stolen coin abandoned in the dust. By dawn, he was gone, riding hard with the law close enough to taste. Wanted posters would follow. They always did. So he cut his hair, ditched the coat that still smelled of smoke, and drifted into a to...Read more