L. Glen Enloe

I am the hoodoo. I am the Coffin Man. the stranger with no memory and no real name as he thought to himself as he sat on his horse in the dark on top of a ridge overlooking a small ranch house below. He was realizing now how fatigued and hungry he was. He had camped for two nights with no fire and no food. All the stale coffee and jerky he had found in the saddlebag was gone. He had come across an old apple tree yesterday and ate his fill, but that was yesterday.
Now he had nothing.