“No one’s been able to catch them?” “Lots have tried. They either come back empty—or dead.” “How long have they been gettin’ away with this?” “They moved into this country with the railroad. They followed the lines—stealin’, ...
“Oh, I think I winged one and coldcocked another. It wasn’t much of a fight.” “Tap, for most of us, that would be counted as a real shootout. ’Course, if they find out you got Jerome over here, you’ll have quite a scrape.” “That’s for sure. Baltimor...
Sitting cross-legged on the raised wooden front porch, Tap Andrews surveyed the Triple Creek Ranch. Several dozen brass .44-40 casings piled next to him. With a routine built by years of practice, he scraped each one clean with the small blade of his folding knife and reset a new primer, using th...
Through his worn duckings, Tap Andrews felt sharp fragments of rock dig into his knees. Keeping his attention on the horizon, he slipped five more .44-40 center-fire cartridges from his bullet belt and slid them into the breech of his Winchester ’73. Then he leaned it with care beside him. ...
Tap questioned. “I certainly want some kind of legal description before I settle with the Land Office.” “You figure on payin’ $1.50 an acre?” “Perhaps less. I surmise there must be 30,000 to 40,000 acres in this drainage. Wha...
Carrying her satchel, she hiked back to the first cluster of trees and waited. Pepper shivered as the rider approached. Hiding behind the cover of the trees, she watched Little Bob ride past her and slowly approach the buggy. Pepper crept up behind him and pulled her .32 s...