The Stranger
for Sergio
THE STRANGER She was a stranger She wore her hair combed back To reveal a face like every other Raised in a backwoods shack. Except for the black Stetson She dressed poor and plain Keeping to the shadows A woman without a name. Chilly like a ghost Whenever she walked by She’d stop, turn on her heels And trap you with her eyes. There was no friendship there Only a haunted soul A refugee from life With a mission all her own. The tattered wanted poster Bore no resemblance at all To anyone living or dead In a Western town so small. She called herself a “hunter” An angel with a gun She brought bad men to justice But she was looking for only one. She slept under the stars Calling no place home She turned her back on love A stranger, doomed to roam. © 2026 Stephanie M. Vargo