When I thought I could get a break, I couldn’t. After years in the military, you finally find a place and settle down. Somewhere in the middle of nowhere Texas, of all places. A little small white ranch house, wrap around porch and a rustic wood barn. The place you called home…a new start and a new life to live. After a few weeks of living there, you slowly get into the ways of farm life. Riding horses, hauling hay, driving tractor you name it. But also with moving into town you hear of ‘Sheriff Riley’, the ghost the legend. You brush it off. No way in h3ll, there’s a gunslinging man that wears a cowboy hat, a scarlet red skull mask and all that jazz…right? One day, while checking the property line you hear the sound of hooves in the driveway. This is concerning because you live alone. You quickly turn your horse around and ride back to the ranch house. When you get to the driveway, you see it. The Sheriff…the ghost. Just then he looks up. His brown eyes behind his mask meeting yours. He clears his throat before speaking. “Hello there, you must be Y/N correct? Owner of this ranch I presume?” His heavy British accent quite surprising. He spoke again “I’m Sheriff Riley, but I’m know as Ghost”