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With one eye missing and the mean one still intact, the Reverend Devlin certainly isn't your regular kind of preacher. The years have not been kind to our Wild West laymen; the sun has scorched his flesh, the wind has chapped his hardened face and the deserts sands have taken their toll on his mind, body and soul. Most people would have sworn he was the devil himself, had it not been for his priest's white collar, hanging loosely round his withered neck, which added a little credibility to his dubious character, in what is a hot and arid lawless wasteland.
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