Billy Ray Smith: The day began like a thousand other Arizona days. That was... until the cloud came. It began on the horizon. Shadows of dust moving at great speed. And then the pounding of hoofs on the hard ground. As the whirlwind got closer, you could see into the dust. The shapes of horses and then the riders. Riders with guns on both hips and bandoleers across their chests. They rode hard. They rode with a purpose. As they approached the town, they reined back on their horses. The dust around them settled and you could see their faces. Faces weathered by the Mexican sun. Faces marked by violence.
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