"Joe Henry, betcha two bits you ain't got a chance in hell at takin' down another one o 'them buzzards circlin' their supper over there with that iron yer packin'," the trail boss called out."

"Aw, hey, Boss, like I said that day in Oklahoma, that was just a lucky shot.""

Last day of the cattle drive, August 1889 and pay day was first thing the next morning. Joe Henry Murphy was barely two weeks past his nineteenth birthday when he'd let himself be persuaded to sign on with a San Antonio to Abilene, Kansas cattle drive at the beginning of summer. With eleven other hands, he'd been on the trail just short of three months, riding herd on two thousand head of Texas Longhorns up the remnants of the old Chisholm trail.

Big, robust and gentle as a new pup, he'd grown up on a hard scrabble cattle ranch west of Big Spring, Texas, the youngest of seven boys born to a stern lay minister father and a deeply Baptist mother. The old man had taught the boys to shoot with a pre-Civil War era muzzle loading rifle. Joe Henry Was always the best shot. When he'd acquired an old and worn Colt Navy .36 caliber revolver, he was amazed how the better tooled weapon made him feel he couldn't miss.

The trail boss was chiding him over an incident near Oklahoma City early into the drive. A calf had drowned crossing the Canadian and a hand had lassoed and dragged the carcass to dry land. When buzzards began their hovering, Joe Henry had dismounted from his gray mare, Ruth, taken careful aim, and brought down one of the scavengers - a feat unheard of with a handgun. The shot raised his youthful status significantly among the crew. But Joe Henry, placid and easy going to a fault, insisted from the get-go, that the shot was pure luck.

His best friend, Cicero "Pepper." Blunt, the person responsible for enlisting Joe Henry on the drive, chimed in. "Joe Henry, if you had a Winchester, betcha you coulda brought down the whole kaboodle. But, remember, buzzards gotta eat, too, partner," he chuckled.

Blunt had grown up on a ranch similar to the origins of Joe Henry, just twenty miles north from the Henry spread. They had gone to church together, attended rare social events or holiday family meals and remained close. A traveling preacher had tagged him with the nickname "Pepper" for the excessive use of the condiment pepper on his barbeque at a church social. Often chided for his unusual name "Cicero", he had been grateful for the exchange. He encouraged and actually nurtured the moniker, the only name most knew him by at present.

Today's similar buzzard shooting situation had developed while the cowboys were slowly circling the herd, waiting for space in the Abilene stockyards. Joe Henry's huge Great Pyenes, Noah, had softly barked at a cluster of vultures circling above some unidentified carrion just to the south. The boss's challenge came as Joe Henry was telling the dog to save his warning to a more important prey.

Noah, a combination burglar alert, tracking expert, lover of children, and affectionate companion, was a normally passive, outwardly gentle animal. He'd been confirmed by the feed store scale back home at a hundred and seventeen pounds. When necessary, he could become a very large bundle of romping hell. The trail drive hands had been amazed when Noah had ripped a pair of large Timberwolves to shreds down in Oklahoma after the predators had attacked a calf. The crew had also been delighted to learn that no one, friend or foe could slip up on Noah at any time, night or day, sound asleep or wide awake, a priceless tool on a cattle drive.

The boss altered the bet, "Joe Henry, ask if you can borry that old Winchester in Slim there's scabbard . . . if he's got any cattridges for it."

The grizzled old cowboy's grin revealed an irregular pattern of gaps in missing front teeth. He handed the well-worn old Winchester model 73, 40-33 caliber rifle over to Joe Henry. "She's loaded awright. Ain't got but three cattridges. They four cents apiece, boys.",

Joe Henry dismounted Ruth and jacked a round into the chamber. He knelt on a knee, held a bead on the circling birds, and squeezed the trigger. A buzzard tumbled out of the sky. A round of guffaws, skeptical hurrahs, and congratulations erupted from the hands. No one was more surprised than Joe Henry.

Before noon the following day, with the herd loaded in railcars for shipment up east, the entire crew lounged around or slumped in their saddles outside the City Bank of Abilene. The boss exited the bank with a heavy sack. "Sorry, Boys, all I could get was twenty-dollar gold pieces. Y'all are going to have to find change somewhere on the trail."

At that, they went their separate ways. Joe Henry and Pepper decided to ride straight south across East-Central Kansas, then angle southwest across Oklahoma to Big Spring due south of the western Oklahoma border. Being young and restless, the pair started that afternoon. By early afternoon the next day, they estimated they'd traveled thirty-five miles south of Abilene. Both were packing four twenty-dollar gold pieces.

A rag tag collection of buildings appeared through the hot, blowing prairie dust. Joe Henry said softly, "Pepper, I'm gonna stop in this next little town and try one more time to make change for some 'a this gold. No place 'tween here and Ft. Worth's gonna take a twenty-dollar piece. We could starve with good money in our pockets. Maybe I could pick up a good buy on a Winchester."

"Joe Henry, I'm thinkin' yer wastin' time . . . but I'll go along." He grinned. "But you wanna be careful roun' these towns. Plenty of sorry hombres waitin' to relieve you of that gold."

Joe Henry flashed a toothy grin. He was a youthful mind that if he tended to his own business, no one would molest him. A gentle giant, he could have counted on his fingers the number of times he'd lost his temper throughout his lifetime. A deeply religious young man, he'd initially been chided by other hands on the drive for holding church services in the wild, although eventually most crew sat in on his impromptu sermons.

"Let's go Ruth." He spurred his gray mare off the faint trail toward the cluster of buildings. Pepper reluctantly followed. Noah, all-purpose Great Pyrenees, brought up the rear.

As they neared the town, they passed a crudely painted sign: "Jimville, County Seat of Logan County, KS. Yer bidness is welcome, trouble ain't."

Joe Henry chuckled, "Jimville don't look so hot from a distance."

Pepper laughed. "Joe Henry, I'm bettin' she ain't any better up close. No way they gonna have change for a twenty-dollar gold piece, and they sound meaner 'n hell."

"We're goin' bankin' partner, not lookin' for any trouble."

Joe Henry spotted East Second Street which showed promise of heavier population and rode west. Eventually they found the hitch rail in front of the Cattlemen's Bank, a brick front building standing among hastily built wooden storefronts. Joe Henry ordered Noah to flop on the boardwalk. He pushed through the double bank doors into a situation which would change his life forever.

"Hands high, both y'all!" growled the rangy, trail dust covered, thirtyish man who stood in the middle of the lobby, pointing a Colt at Joe Henry's chest. A second, dirty, unkempt man behind the counter, was filling a sack with cash from drawers. Several terrified bank customers stood with their hands raised. Pepper's hands shot up.

Joe Henry studied the man with typical calm.

"Drop them gun belts, hayseeds, now! Empty yer pockets, quick."

Pepper's Colt hit the floor with a heavy thud. He dug frantically in his pocket, willing to surrender three months wages without complaint.

Joe Henry wasn't so sure. He slowly reached to unbuckle his Colt. The gunman stepped forward, poking his pistol sharply into Joe Henry's chest.

Pepper, standing partly behind Joe Henry, complained, "Hey man, no need to hurt nobody."

The man stepped back and shot Pepper just below the heart. The friendly youth coughed blood as he hit the floor, dead.

Joe Henry, stunned and filled with terrible anger, started for his Colt.

A graying man, waving a Colt, barged headlong through the door, inadvertently shouldering Joe Henry to the floor. "I'm Sheriff Clarence Smith. Drop that pistol!" he shouted at the gunman.

The bank robber fired twice, the bullets striking the sheriff in his chest two inches apart. The officer fell beside Joe Henry, spasmed in death briefly and stopped breathing.

The bandit behind the counter vaulted over into the lobby, dragging the sack of cash behind him. "Whut the hell, Will, you've shot the law. We need to clear, right now."

To the surprise of all in the lobby, Joe Henry rolled on his back, yanked his Colt and put a round in each bandit's chest. The second man fell across the sack of cash face up, his eyes fixed on eternity. The outlaw who'd been called Will, hit the floor face down, gasped several times and shuddered in death. A woman screamed. A burley cowboy fainted.

"Hero," "Brave," and "Wonderful" were prominent among words bantered about by bystanders.

Joe Henry said nothing more. He stood, devastated by his best friend, alive and well seconds earlier, now sprawled in death on the floor.

"Heavens, now Logan County's got no sheriff," a woman wailed,

"But they's a couple of deputies" a fat man replied.

A balding, obese man in a brown business suit clambered from under a spacious desk behind the counter, brushed himself off, and rushed over to help Joe Henry to his feet. "Lord 'a Mercy sir. You've saved the day. I'm Hiram Speed, son, Mayor of Jimville and owner of this bank. To whom do I have the pleasure . . . ?"

Joe Henry, Smoking revolver in hand, interrupted. "Are there more? Did anyone see a third man ride away . . . or maybe lurking around before the robbery?"

A couple of cowboys dashed outside and returned quickly. "Two horses hitched alongside, but nobody seen a third man," one reported.

Hiram Speed said, "Nobody lurked around, young man, and I saw these two hitchin' out of sight 'roun there. Sent a boy to fetch the Sheriff. Tarnation, that didn't work out too good." He gestured to the Sheriff's prostrate body.

Joe Henry studied the exasperated banker. He felt uneasily that this talkative man generated a negative edge he couldn't quite place. Not one to offend, he holstered his Colt and fighting back tears said, "Sorry, sir, I'm Joe Henry Murphy. Me 'n my partner here was ridin' back to Big Spring, Texas. Couple days ago, we got paid off for near three months of droverin' a herd up from San Antone to Abilene. "

A man wearing an undertaker's suit arrived, followed closely by two men with badges pinned on their chests. One, a beardless youth about Joe Henry's age. knelt by Sheriff Smith's body in tears. "Dad! Oh God, Dad!"

The second deputy, a fortyish obese man with graying temples disappearing into his Stetson, leveled a Colt, hammer back, at Joe Henry. "On the floor, cowboy," he snapped.

Hiram Speed cried out, "Hold on, Barger, this young man saved the day. The robbers shot the sheriff and this man's companion, then this spunky young fella here killed both bandits. Saved our lives."

"And saved your money, Speed," Barger replied. Holding his pistol on Joe Henry, he demanded, "Show some identification, boy."

Joe Henry, eyes cold, said softly, "Stop pointin' that iron at me."

Hiram Speed said hurriedly. "Better lower that weapon Barger, while you still have a choice. We all just saw what he can do with that Colt."

"I'm the senior lawman now." He continued to hold his pistol on Joe Henry. "Lemme see whut's in your pockets, now!"

Joe Henry, suddenly realizing that the scruffy deputy appeared capable of stealing the gold pieces in Pepper's and his pockets, saw hesitation in Barger's eyes. The man was a coward. "Deputy, my partner and the Sheriff are murdered and I've done for the men responsible. The banker and the rest of these folks can vouch for that. Now either put that Colt to use or holster it . . . quick!" An innocent youth minutes before, he was surprised at his grit.

The youthful deputy, bent over his father, sobbed, "Dammit, Barger, we've had enough killin'."

Barger lowered his shifty eyes and holstered the pistol. "Cain't never be too careful."

Banker Speed sighed and nodded to Joe Henry, "Whut brought you two to our bank, anyway, sir?"

"Needed change for some twenty-dollar gold pieces, sir. We walked in and encountered them two robbin' the bank. They murdered my partner and I guess I jes' acted. I'm no gunfighter, sir."

"You coulda fooled all of us, son."

Barger growled, "See, banker, we need to hold that money as evidence. They prolly stole it someplace."

Joe Henry turned full face to Barger. "One more word outta you, sir and you'll need that Colt. Now ease on outta of here."

"Whut the . . . ?" Barger stammered. "I'm the law."

Joe Henry laid his hand on his Colt. "That's way more than one word, mister. Out!"

Barger turned back and hesitated, his hand near his pistol. Noah crashed through the closed screen door, leapt and caught Barger in the chest with all one hundred plus pounds, driving the belligerent lawman to the floor against the bank counter. His Colt slid across the floor, out of his reach.

Joe Henry said softly, "Now on your feet. Go sit on the boardwalk and wait for the mayor here's instructions. Noah will go with you. Let him up, Noah."

Barger scrambled through the shattered screen doors and sat meekly on the curb of the boardwalk. Noah followed and lay quietly watching him.

Joe Henry walked over to the double doors and surveyed the boardwalk. Noah was on the job. Barger wasn't right, nor someway was the fat banker, but intuition was far from proof. He turned back to the horrible bank scene.

Inside, Hiram Speed, said, "Good Lord, son, I can't begin to imagine how you must feel at the loss of your friend. Besides owning this bank, I'm also the owner of the local funeralizing parlor. We can arrange burial services right away . . . at no charge to you of course. It's the least we could do."

Joe Henry studied the rough-hewn floor. "Pepper needs to be took back to his mama in Big Spring."

"Son, Big Spring's gotta be five hunnert miles. Most it plenty rough country . . . and hard case people. Body's gonna deteriorate. Best use the local cemetery."

"Mr. Speed, I read in Harper's about a powerful new treatment called embalmeration . . . or such like. Me 'n Pepper both carryin' four twenty-dollar gold pieces . . . cattle drive pay. Can you fix Pepper up for eighty dollars?"

"It's called embalming. Like I said, son, we'll do whatever is necessary at no charge, including the cost of the finest coffin we can put together. Joe Henry, impressed at the banker's generosity, wondered why.

During the next two nights, Joe Henry camped on the prairie with his animals while making plans to transport his slain friend home. He swapped the twenty-dollar pieces of both he and Pepper, then purchased a team of horses and a spring wagon. He bought two forty-pound bags of oats, twenty pounds of red beans, a fairly new Winchester, a box of ammunition for each the rifle and his Colt and other supplies, all from the local feed store. Fully equipped, he had just over fourteen dollars remaining. He calculated that with equipment, supplies and Peppe's coffin, scant space would be left for Noah to hitch a ride in the cramped wagon bed. The relatively small rig was about the size of a buckboard.

On the third day, he attended funeral services for Sheriff Smith. On learning from the Sheriff's heartbroken son that his father was a widower, he sat with the young man. He noticed that in the sizeable numbers of mourners in attendance, Deputy Barger was not present.

He overheard talk that Deputy Barger, humiliated in the bank robbery, had just drifted out of town.

Coincidentally, he learned that Pepper's brindle gelding had been stolen from the local livery. Never inclined to make rash accusations, he quietly vowed that if he ever encountered deputy Barger again, the crude lawman had best not be in possession of Pepper's horse.

Then the pot became more lucrative. Banker, mayor, undertaker Hiram Speed approached Joe Henry after the burial. "Mr. Murphy. I just received a telegram. The bank robber you gunned called "Will" is William Northcutt Winston, wanted as the Carlsbad Kid. The U.S. Mail and the Denver/Northern Railroad was offerin' rewards dead or alive . . . train robbery and murder."

Joe Henry typically waited patiently without comment.

Speed continued. "Reward totals just over seven hundred dollars. On my authorization, the money arrives at my bank after three p.m. today."

"You're sayin'?"

"It's yours. Stop by the bank before you leave town. I'll arrange to transfer the total to your bank down in Texas. You don't want to carry that kind of money on the trail."

Speed was stunned at Joe Henry's lack of reaction. "Don't have a bank, Mr. Speed."

"First Drovers Bank of Big Spring are associates of mine. They're fully insured. Your money will be waiting on you, safe and sound." Speed handed over a stack of documents which he explained were proof the reward money was legally Joe Henry's. Joe Henry glanced at them before folding them up and stuffing them in his pocket.

Joe Henry, unschooled in such transactions, said, "I wouldn't want to have to come back up here, Mr. Speed."

Speed, not below skimming a share of complicated money affairs, had seen Joe Henry in action. He'd studied the husky boy's cold eyes and heard the edge in his voice. Reaching up to place a hand on Joe Henry's shoulder, he said, "We've had enough grief here, son. Your money is safe." He pulled out his wallet and handed Joe Henry a hundred dollars in U.S. Gold certificates. "Yours in good faith, son. I'll deduct the cash from your account when your money arrives."

"Not sure I'll need this money, Mr. Speed." Joe Henry reluctantly stuffed the bills in his pocket.

Early the next morning, Joe Henry headed his team south with Pepper's coffin roped in the bed, Ruth reined to the tailgate, and Noah trotting behind. Hiram Speed had planned a formal departure, but Joe Henry had opted to leave early to avoid the commotion.

As he cleared the town, a cowboy called out, "Heard you hit the mother lode, kid."

Joe Henry ignored the man, but wondered what it meant and who might have sowed such seed. In a few miles, he quickly forgot the incident and moved on South.

He camped in the open under beautiful starlit skies the first two nights, estimating he'd made over twenty miles each day. The midday Kansas heat faded to nighttime chill and the trip was uneventful. He felt comfortable estimating the trip would take around four weeks.

On the third night, his luck changed. Lightning and thunder, drifting in ominously from the west developed into blowing rain. Joe Henry roped an oilcloth over Pepper's coffin, making a cramped shelter beneath the wagon for Noah and him to squeeze closely for a semi-dry night.

At first, Joe Henry was not surprised when Noah spent the night restlessly, pushing out of the makeshift tent countless times to sniff the rainy air. He figured Noah had picked up the scent of a wolf or a pack of coyotes, driven from shelter by the storm, and gave the matter no further thought.

But the following day, Noah again was agitated and restless. Several times, he jumped onto the spring wagon, nervously nudging Joe Henry in the ribs.

Joe Henry realized Noah wouldn't show such behavior over the scent of prairie predators—unless they were the two-legged kind. He checked the loads in his Winchester and Colt, then began carefully studying the surrounding terrain. If somebody was following him, he had no clear idea why or who.

Early in the day, Noah's ears perked up when the faint report of a gunshot, then two, wafted up from the south . . . ahead of him. Then the sounds stopped.

Near to midday, like lightning from a sunny sky. a rifle round whined no more than a foot over his head. Joe Henry slapped the team with the rein trace and, at the best gallop the heavily burdened team could make, headed for a cluster of spruce trees ahead. Noah bounded off the wagon and made a straight line toward a small rise off to the left. A round kicked up dust in front of the angry dog. "Noah, come here!" Joe Henry shouted.

The big white animal hesitated, then obediently turned and was back on the wagon in seconds. Joe Henry gambled, stopping, which made him a stationery target. In three seconds, he sent three Winchester rounds along the ridge line near the point Noah had been heading. He lowered the Winchester and pulled into the limited safety of the Spruce thicket. "Noah, stay. They must be wantin' our horses or they woulda tried to wing one of 'em. These trees aren't much protection, but maybe we can spot one of 'em up there." He tethered the team and Ruth to separate spruce branches and settled down to wait.

Another rifle round ripped through the treetops overhead. Joe Henry figured the shooter or shooters were firing downhill, making accuracy difficult.

He whispered to Noah, "God found us a pretty good location. Let's crawl over there and see if one of these bushwhackers makes a mistake. Boy, you got any idea who'd be shootin' at a coffin?" Several more rifle rounds crashed through the spruce.

At the thicket's edge, he poked his Winchester barrel to the edge of the brush and waited. Shortly, a Stetson showed, then a forehead at a distance too far away to recognize, but within range.

"Noah, that's one big mistake." He held his bead on the spot. In seconds, the hat reappeared about a yard from the original spot. Joe Henry squeezed the Winchester trigger. On the ridge, an arm flew up. The hat sailed upward, then flew away on the wind.

"Well, Noah, somebody's havin' a bad day. Now we wait to see if somebody else makes a mistake. Whoever is shootin' is an amateur."

Minutes passed, then the big part of an hour. "Noah, you don't reckon that first fella was alone do ya?"

The dog stared back at him quizzically.

"C'mon Noah, the horses are secured. What say we try to flank an old boy who might be missing part of his head?"

In a half hour, crawling in the two-foot-tall crop of summer prairie grass, Noah growled a warning. They were near another human, unknown if dead or alive. Then Noah found the body. Both Joe Henry's aim and first guess had been correct. His round had carried away part of the man's head, leaving him unrecognizable.

The assailant was wearing a duster, an overcoat worn to protect clothes beneath, usually meaning he was wearing fine clothing. Joe Henry opened the duster. The corpse was dressed in a silk business suit. "Somebody dressed up to kill us, Noah."

A black gelding was grazing nearby. Noah's fine nose found no scent of any other animal or gear of additional men. The bushwhacker had either been alone, or his partners had been holed up some distance away.

Joe Henry caught the black mare, fully saddled. Leading the animal, he crept low back to the spruce thicket, saddled Ruth, and with Noah, circled the area several times. They found no other human sign. He tied Ruth and the black mare to the rear of the spring wagon and started warily south.

Joe Henry had made about ten miles when a scratchy man's voice called out from a buckbrush thicket, "Hold it right there, Cowboy. I'm the Sheriff of Davis County. Throw your weapons in the back of your wagon and drive the team over here toward my voice. Any move for a weapon and we will shoot." His voice was familiar.

The shooter must have had others who now intended to finish the job. He intended to resist. Joe Henry, picking up on the "we," pretended to follow the voice's instructions. Not fully convinced he was dealing with the law; he slid his Colt beneath a duster on the seat of the spring wagon.

"Keep on comin' . . . straight ahead," the voice directed.

Joe Henry pulled up twenty yards from the buckbrush.

"Closer!" demanded the voice.

Joe Henry called out, "No closer` 'til somebody shows some tin."

A pair of dirty men on foot, each leveling Winchesters at Joe Henry, pushed out of the thicket. Each wore a silver badge on his -left chest.

The normally unflappable youth was genuinely surprised when the man who been shouting at him showed himself. He was mounted on a brindle gelding . . . Pepper's horse!

"Deputy Barger, you're quite a piece from Jimville. See ya' got a new horse. Lose your way?"

"Naw, hayseed, jes' collectin' that seven thousand Banker Speed give to ya'."

"Seven thousand? Surely you mean seven hundred?" He leaned his left leg against the colt beneath the duster.

"No, no, hick boy. Speed said he give you seven grand. The money was insured by the railroad and the government. We take your seven grand, he steals it back from the government and them railroads. Whut Speed did was his bidness. He slow trailed you down here. Tol' me yisterday, he meant to bushwhack you this mornin'. Now git down and pony up the cash."

"Barger, you're in for one big disappointment. I'm carryin' less than twenty dollars gold, plus a hundred in gold certificates. If Speed would lie to me, what makes you think he wouldn't do the same for you?"

"Jes' get down from there and gimme the money, kid."

"Was that Speed I killed back there?" He gestured, using the movement to secure a grip on his Colt.

"We wasn't needin' him no more. Fact 'a bidness, we never needed him. He jes' decided to do our job . . . ambush you.

Joe Henry recalled the distant gunfire he'd heard earlier. "Who ya' been shootin' at down this way, Barger?"

"You, if'n ya' don't hand over the money. That shootin'was jes' Cedric there, killin' a couple rabbits for dinner" He pointed his chin at one of the two "deputies" holding Winchesters at Joe Henry. "We thought we was outta earshot."

"Pretty stupid, Barger."Joe Henry had no choice but to try his newfound gunfighter skills. Cottonmouth quick, he whipped out his Colt and put a bullet in the chest of each of the men pointing Winchesters at him.

Both were dead when they hit the ground. His third shot caught Barger in the gun hand shoulder, knocking him off Pepper's horse. He fell heavily into the thorny brambles, screaming in pain.

Joe Henry stood over Barger. "Is that wild tale you just offered got any truth in it?"

Barger writhed in pain. "Doctor . . . for God's sake, I need a doctor."

"We're many miles from a doctor, Barger. You maybe shoulda thought on that before you commenced tryin' to murder me. Gimme two good reasons why I shouldn't let the air outta you right here." He gestured angrily at Pepper's coffin. "I'm hauling the results of your bank robbery caper home to his mama. Got no time for you, pard."

"Oh God, nooo!" Barger pled upward from the thorny brush. "Don't kill me!"

"Tell me . . . exactly what was the plan?"

"Uh . . . Speed had insurance on some of the bank's deposits. Will and his cousin were inlaws of mine. Speed hired them to rob the bank. Another insurance deal someway. Then you two walked in. later, Speed somehow got word of a reward for Will. Tol' me it was seven thousand . . . that's a lottta money out here. Like I said, Speed tol' us to rob and finish you. When you didn't show down in Texas to claim the reward, he was gonna steal it. He insisted on comin' along. Then, you know he tried to waylay you, but you turned a trick and got him instead. Now for God's sake . . . a doctor." His voice trailed into a rattle.

Joe Henry considered his vow to murder whoever possessed Pepper's horse. But he was no murderer . . . not exactly. "Its only a few miles back to Jimville. Tough old boy like you can walk it."

Joe Henry coaxed Pepper's brindle mare close enough to grab her bridle. He tied the animal beside Ruth to the back of his spring wagon, climbed aboard, and started to leave. Barger fumbled with his waist with his uninjured hand and pointed a small, two shot derringer at him. "Haul me some damned place to find a doc or I'm gonna put one in your back, hillbilly.

Like an angry puma, Noah leaped from the wagon bed and ripped into Barger. He sprang back onto the wagon bed, the small, blood saturated pistol clamped in his teeth. Joe Henry pointed at the wagon floor. Noah dropped the gun. Joe Henry started south.

"My God, help. They'll eat me alive!" Barger shouted frantically. With the sound gradually fading, he hoarsely repeated himself until Joe Henry and moved out of earshot. "Noah, less than four weeks to go." He reached back and gave his partner a good ear scratch. From a corner of his eye, circling buzzards were gathering.

He smiled. "Like Pepper said, Noah, buzzards gotta eat, too."