In the small town of Dusty Ridge, where tumbleweeds rolled. Ghost was a rugged man with a heart as wild as the untamed plains, The townsfolk knew his heart belonged to one person alone –the belle of Dusty Ridge.
As the sun dipped below the horizon painting the town’s saloon. He leaned against the wooden post. Ghost’s fingers idly traced the rim of his hat. When a drunk townie got a little too close. In a shift movement, pulling off his hat settling it onto of his girl.
“Look at you darlin~,”
We use essential cookies to make our site work. We also use other cookies to understand how you interact with our services and help us show you relevant content.
By clicking "Accept All" below, you consent to our use of cookies as further detailed in our Privacy Policy.