The Sheriff's Prayer

I kept this town from fire and flood,

With cold resolve and colder blood.

I hung the law above the gate,

And did what must be done by fate.

He came with eyes that saw too much,

A preacher’s tongue, a sinner’s touch.

So we strung him high for all to see —

And peace returned to Dust Creek’s streets.

I’ve no regrets, I’ve no remorse,

The badge I wear stays on its course.

I built this town from dust and sand —

With righteous law and steady hand.

Let cowards cry and liars wail,

My justice rides on lead and nail.

They speak of shadows on the hill,

Of horses riding when nights grow still.

Of flames that dance without a spark,

Of whispers rising from the dark.

But I don’t flinch, I don’t look back,

A ghost can’t ride a final track.

What’s buried deep, stays in the ground —

I run this law, I run this town.

Then silence fell, the stars turned gray,

No wind, no sound, no trail, no way.

And from the church on Broken Street —

A bell rang once.

A single beat.

Midnight called… and time stood still,

I felt the chill beyond the hill.

I said, “You’re just a tale they told,”

He said, “Your blood has not gone cold.”

I reached for steel, I reached for flame —

But mercy never knew my name.

And as I fell, I heard no prayer…

Just vengeance breathing desert air.

Dust Creek sleeps, but never clean.

The law was blind…

But he has seen.

And when that bell rings once again…

Another soul is lost to sin.

*Church Bell*