Death Rides a Chestnut Mare

LAST STAND . . .

“What are you doin’ here in the Territory all by your lonesome, mister?”

“I’m not the law, if that’s what’s bothering you,” Dan said.

“Haw, haw,” one of the men cackled. “Would you admit it if you was?”

“I have nothing to hide,” said Dan. “I didn’t cotton to the war, and I laid out up in St. Joe, Missouri. But I got lonesome for Texas, and that’s where I’m headed.”

To further his bluff, Dan holstered the Colt he still held in his hand.

“I’m Bart Scovill,” the lead rider said, “and I’ve always had a hankerin’ for a chestnut mare just like that one of yours.”

“Good luck finding one,” said Dan.

While Scovill had been talking, two of the mounted men had drawn their horses to the side so that they had a clear shot, and it was these that Daniel Strange was watching. When they went for their guns, Dan drew with lightning swiftness and shot them both out of their saddles. But four of them were on him before he was able to make another move.

“Jasper,” said Scovill, “tie me a good thirteen-knot noose. . . .”