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from one man. One man!
    â€œWho the hell does this Jamie MacCallister think he is, anyways?” Rudy Hewitt demanded, throwing a couple of sticks on the fire. “Hell, he’s an old man! He’s got to be in his late fifties. I could take him with one hand tied behind my back.”
    Rudy was in his early thirties. He wasn’t going to get much older.
    â€œThis guy fought in the Alamo,” Ollie Brennan said. “Christ, I wasn’t even born when that happened.”
    â€œYeah,” Lloyd Jones said. “There can’t be much to him. He’s just an old man who thinks he’s still tough. Hell, my brother’s probably done put lead in him.”
    Russell Stokes walked back from the spring with a pot of fresh water. He put the pot on to boil. “We’re ’bout out of coffee. I ain’t gonna stand for bein’ out of coffee. I’m tarred of waitin’ ’round here, hidin’ out like cowards. Goddammit, I ain’t no coward.”
    Cliff Baylock nodded his head in agreement. He rubbed his crotch. “I got to have me a woman. Let’s mosey on down toward Utah and find us a farm woman. We’ll take turns with her.”
    â€œHer husband might have something to say about that,” Rudy said.
    â€œHell, we’ll just kill him right off. We might get lucky and find us a farm woman with some daughters. I like ‘em young and tender. I ’specially like it when they fight and beg. Makes it better.”
    Lloyd grinned and pulled at his crotch. “Damn, but you’re gettin’ me all worked up, Cliff.”
    â€œI think you got a real good idea, Cliff,” Russell said.
    â€œI’m for it,” Ollie agreed.
    â€œMe, too,” Rudy added.
    â€œBad idea.” The whisper came out of the brush.
    â€œWho said that?” Lloyd demanded, getting to his feet and looking all around him.
    â€œI didn’t hear nothin’,” Cliff said.
    â€œI didn’t neither,” Ollie echoed.
    â€œI could have swore I heard someone whisper from over yonder,” Lloyd said, pointing toward the brush.
    Russell laughed at the younger man. “You just started thinkin’ ’bout women and that caused a roarin’ in your head, boy. Settle down and let’s plan this here thing out.”
    Lloyd looked all around him, then shrugged and returned to his spot by the fire. “I been out here in the lonesome so long I’m losin’ my mind,” he muttered.
    Jamie couldn’t believe the men had dismissed his whisper as imagination. He stood in the brush and timber and listened to the men plan their evil perversions until he could take no more of it.
    â€œIt’s still a bad idea.” Jamie spoke the words loud and clear as he stepped out of the brush, both his hands holding Colts, hammers back.
    Ollie was the first to react. “MacCallister!” he yelled. He grabbed for his pistol, whirled around, and Jamie shot him. Ollie screamed and fell backward, landing in the fire. His clothing ignited, and soon he was blazing.
    As Cliff Baylock levered a round into his Winchester, Jamie shot him twice in the chest just as Rudy came up with twin Stars, converted to take cartridges. Jamie ended his outlaw days and sent him to the grave with a bullet in his brain.
    Cursing like a wild man, Russell faced Jamie and managed to fire once, the slug knocking bark off a tree. Jamie shot him twice while a badly frightened Lloyd made it to his horse and went galloping away, toward the south.
    Jamie let him go. There was always another day.
    Jamie took the money belts from the men, with the exception of Ollie. There wasn’t much left of him. Then he took what ammunition he could use and stretched the men out in a row. He stripped the saddles from their mounts and turned the horses loose.
    Getting water from the spring, Jamie doused the fire, and the smoldering remains of Ollie, and then dug a common grave under a huge