THE DEADEST GUN IN THE WEST
Franklin can’t remember much about his death or the life that preceded it. He thinks he died sometime in the late 1880’s, and he’s pretty sure he died here in Salty Canyon, Nevada.
But he recalls two people with certainty. The euphoric Miss Trixie Belle, the sassiest madam in the West. And evil gunslinger Black Charley Contrary, the man who killed him.
Now Franklin has awakened from his long, lonely sleep, and every day he discovers something new about being a ghost. Like if you practice a lot, you can use your will to maneuver the dainty objects lying about in a lady's boudoir. And the hot rays of the sun can fry you out of existence, so don’t let your enemy toss your bones out into the middle of the desert. And if your bone dust is inside a pretty girl’s shoes, you will follow her anywhere.
Modern people with new technologies are turning his ghost town into a theme park. He doesn’t mind, since many of them are pretty. He’s especially drawn to Angela, a girl with flowers tattooed across her chest and a trollop’s way with men.
He’s dismayed to discover that someone once hated him bad enough to bury him and Charley Contrary together in the same shallow grave near the town latrine ditch. What’s more worrisome: this same person still seeks his destruction.
Now two girls have been murdered and even Franklin doesn’t know if the killer is a living person or a dead one. It’s a sorrowful revelation to discover that the only person you can trust—the only one who will always have your back—is the villain who killed you.