From across the street, he heard the music coming from a saloon. He rarely went to saloons nowadays. He didn’t like gambling, and there was always the chance some fool was going to call him out. He had done enough killing to last a lifetime. The great passions that had driven him during the war had faded. He was no longer the avenger who rode under a black flag. The fury and the hatred were gone, leaving him with nothing. Just emptiness. He hung his gun belt around the bedpost and stripped off his clothes. After he undressed, he pulled back the bedcover and stretched out on the mattress. He thought about Darcy again, wondering what had happened to her husband. If she still missed him. If she still loved him. He groaned and rolled over. Forget her, he told himself. In a few days, he would have Midnight Dancer back and he’d be on his way home to his ranch. A place where he was surrounded by lush meadows covered with blooming wildflowers, wide creeks shaded by strong oaks and deep canyons where wild horses ran free.
