EXCERPT

Chapter I

The four riders drew rein on the grassy ridge above the little town of Carson Spring. The leader, a tall freckle faced rider wrapped his reins around the saddle horn. He drew the makings from his vest pocket and built a smoke. At nineteen he was the youngest of the four.

A slight of build Mexican rider to his right coiled his reins around the big Mexican horn on his saddle. He didn't build a smoke. He pulled a New Model Remington forty-four and cranked the lever down over the six loads to make certain they hadn't jarred loose. When done he eased the hammer down in the safety notch between two cylinders and put it back in his high-riding cross draw holster.

The rider on the other side of the leader pulled his pistol and checked the five loads in it. He was packing a Colt Forty-Five Peacemaker. He spun the cylinder and slid it back into his holster.

The fourth man, a sizeable man, obviously going to paunch, gave an audible sigh. Only gray hair protruded from under his bowler hat. One at a time he pulled a pair of Army Colts and filled the sixth chamber in each with a live round and returned them to their high-riding cross-draw holsters.

The leader struck a match on his saddle horn and lit up. "I hope you fellas ain't gonna start any trouble," he said through eyes squinted from the smoke curling up from his cigarette. "We're just looking for the Boss and the Segundo. We ain't lookin' to make trouble."

"Johnny," said the older cowboy, "I never go lookin' for trouble, but the Boss being gone for weeks don't sound good."

"I don't like trouble either," said the Mexican. "But sometimes people try to push me around because of my size. It is best to let them know that is not wise. If I do not then I might have to hurt someone."

"I don't care," said the fourth. "I don't like these sodbusters. If one of 'em steps on my toe I'm gonna clean his plow."

"Dooley, no you ain't," said Johnny in a very cold voice. "You will be polite and nice to these folks. You understand? If somebody steps on your toe YOU will apologize for stickin' your toe in his way. If I think somebody needs worked over I'll let you know. Otherwise you pretend you are in Sunday school, understand?"

"Yes," replied Dooley.

"That goes for you other two. Pedro?"

"Yes, sir."

"Charlie?"

"Just like in church," replied Charlie with a grin. "Now Johnny, you ever know me to start a fight?"

"Cain't say as I have," replied Johnny as he uncoiled his reins. "Let's keep it that way. When we get there you and Pedro check at the store to see if they got there. Dooley and I'll go talk to the law."

The town was not very big, but the surrounding country apparently supported a sizeable general store, three saloons, one church, a barbershop, a blacksmith and livery barn and a one-room jail.

Charlie and Pedro tied up in front of the store while Johnny and Dooley went to the nearest saloon looking for the law.

"Pete, you oughta git rid of that old cap 'n ball gun and git a cat'ridge gun," said Charlie as they went through the door.

"Aw, the Old Remington does good. It shoots straight, and I can carry six shots without having to worry about shooting my leg." Pedro slipped his sombrero back and let it dangle down the middle of his back. "Besides, I haven't seen a new gun I liked better."

"Let's see what they got?" said Charlie. "Maybe you'll change your mind."

The light was much dimmer inside the store, but small windows up high provided light to examine the piles of goods. Two women, apparently mother and daughter, were minding the business.

"May I help you?" the mother asked sternly.

Charlie politely doffed his bowler. "I sincerely hope so ma'am. My name is Charles Parker, and my small friend here is Pedro Garcia. We ride for the Bar over Dub ya. We're 'bout sixty miles west. Our Boss and Segundo headed here 'bout three weeks ago to buy some supplies. Somehow they must've got lost, cause they never came home with the supplies. Might you have seen them?"

"Is one a medium sized fella with a red mustache?" she replied. "Goes by the name of Thad Goforth?"

"That's the Boss," said Charlie. "He was here then?"

"Not exactly," she replied.
"What do you mean, "not exactly?"" asked Charlie.

"He and another man, named Dewitt are over in the jail."

Charlie swallowed hard. "Our Boss is in jail."

Pedro laughed. "He doesn't drink. He doesn't fight and he doesn't spend time with bad women."

"What did he do?" asked Charlie.

"Shot a man," she replied. "In fact, the two of 'em shot three men. One of 'em may die."

"What for?" Charlie snapped.

"That's where things get real interestin'," she said. "You fellas care for a cup of coffee?"

"Yeah, I mean yes, ma'am," said Charlie.

She turned to her daughter, "Callie, bring some coffee."

"At a Saturday night dance about three weeks ago four masked men kidnapped four young ladies from the dance. They shot two young men and beat up two others. The ones that got shot are doing okay."

"Ain't no way the boss would raid a Saturday night dance, or kidnap a bunch of girls," said Charlie firmly.

The girl set four cups on the counter and filled them from a pot.

"Didn't say he did," said the woman. "By the way I'm Sadie Fulton. This is my daughter, Callie."

"Pleased to meet you," said Charles.

"Me too," said Pedro taking the cup from Callie.

"The posse chasing after those raiders came onto your boss's camp. Shooting started. Your boss and his friend defended themselves quite well. When the shooting stopped long enough for some talking, the mistake came to light. The men in the posse insisted your Boss and foreman go to jail."

Charlie finished. "Pete, now's the time to buy that new gun. Better make it a couple of 'em. I'm gonna go find Johnny and Dooley. Meet us at the jail. Nice meeting you, ladies. See ya."

Charlie left hurriedly clamping his bowler on his head. Pedro continued to sip his coffee.

"Could I see some pistols?"

"You and your friends aren't going to shoot up our town?" said Sadie.

"I hope not," said Pedro with a big grin. "It seems like a nice town."