Ezekiel Cross stopped abruptly when he spotted the settlement on the horizon, about a mile North of his position. His mount skidded to a stop as Ezekiel yanked on the reins, kicking up a cloud of hot dust. Slowly, as the rough outline of wooden buildings came back into focus, Ezekiel sighed as he looked upon the rotten road apple of a town that was now his responsibility. He fingered the badge pinned to his shirt with left hand, and gently patted the beast beneath him with his right.

“No turning back now,” Ezekiel muttered. Suddenly, as if to signal the accuracy of his claim, a distant sound of gunfire rang out over the desert. Ezekiel’s brow furrowed as the animal beneath him tensed, and he stroked his neck once more to calm him before flicking the reins. Ahead, they passed a road sign. From his vantage point 12 feet above the desert floor, Ezekiel had to crane his neck down to read it:

ENTERING SASQUATCH GULCH

High atop the shoulders of the great ape, Ezekiel Cross continued on to his destiny.