As Sam reined his stallion down, Lang sidled in close. Dankett reined his horse down too, but he pulled away from the Ranger, taking a position for himself with his long shotgun. “There’s the Coyle brothers,” Lang said to Sam under his breath, gazing away from the two as he spoke. “That’s Oldham on the left.” “That’s what I would have guessed,” Sam said, also under his breath. He stared straight at the two brothers from twenty yards away. He looked to the Coyle brothers’ right and saw a man seemingly staring at him through blacked-out spectacles. Yet he also saw the tapping stick leaning against Simon’s leg and made the connection. Looking to the Coyles’ left, he saw the dwarf, his small fingers tapping on the handle of the big belly gun strapped across his middle. “Oldham Coyle,” he called out from his saddle, his Winchester propped up in his right hand. He sat silent, his eyes locked on to Oldham’s until the gunman felt he had to take a step forward and speak.
