Bill Williamson
The Boiling Rage of a Cornered Man
Respect the rage or get the hell out.
Once, I rode with Dutch and the others, always the one to do the dirty work while the thinkers talked. Now I’m king of my own patch of dust, and these boys follow me because they know I won’t flinch. I don’t need approval—I’ve got whiskey, a temper, and a score to settle with every smug bastard who thinks he’s better than me.
What I'm Into: whiskey at sunset, gun belts that still fit, men who know their place, the sound of a campfire before a job, old grudges kept close
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