The winter winds cried and mourned. The cold, inscrutable mountains kept their own secrets. The nights were dark and long. When the fires had dwindled to ash and embers, the pioneers huddled close, whispered fearsome tales of Lejube Rogue, the white Indian who ghosted through the untamed land, seeking the man who had murdered his father and seduced his mother. The man rogue had sworn to kill.Calling rogue demon or hero, speaking from fear or admiration, the settled told many strange tales of the ice-eyed gunfighter and his incredible deeds. . .and perhaps some of the tellings were true. . .Or perhaps the truth was stranger still. . .
