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loco, but as I said, he's got a certain charm, and he smiles oh so sweetly. The people around here are rather unsophisticated, and they've been taken in by him. Duane Braddock could shoot a grandmother in the back in broad daylight on the main street of Shelby, and the good citizens would probably say that he was justified, or it was an accident, or the grandmother had evil intentions. Duane Braddock has this town bamboozled, but I'm the local authority and couldn't let him get away with shooting two people.”
    Marshal Stowe smiled faintly. “I've got thirty witnesses who'll say that Braddock fired in self-defense.”
    â€œI don't care what they say. Two men were dead, and I considered it my duty to take him into custody, which I did at great personal risk, by the way. I suppose you've heard that he beat Otis Puckett to the draw? He would've shot me, too, but fortunately I was able to outmaneuver him. Mind if I have another sip of that whiskey?”
    The marshal threw the flask, and Dawes plucked it out of the air. He took a few swallows, sucked wind through his teeth, and said, “If you don't believe me, that's your privilege. All I can do is my duty as I see it, but if you ever run into the so-called Pecos Kid, keep your hand near your gun and watch for a back shot. I wouldn't put anything past him, and he likes to usewomen to get what he wants. Have you heard that he was about to marry into the richest ranch in the territory?”
    â€œI spoke with Mister Thornton yesterday. He thinks Duane Braddock is innocent, and is anxious to exonerate him.”
    â€œKilling is killing no matter how you cut it. If you came here hoping that I'd withdraw my report—forget it.”
    The sounds of the army camp came to their ears as they stared at each other. Then the marshal placed his left ankle on his right knee and lit a cheroot. “I've spoken with your wife,” he said.
    Lieutenant Dawes's cheek betrayed a flicker of emotion. “What did the bitch have to say?”
    â€œThe same as the others: that you arrested Braddock out of jealousy.”
    â€œI don't care what my birdbrained wife says. Braddock is personable and even somewhat charismatic, just like Jesse James, John Wesley Harding, and all the other killers, robbers, and rapists on the loose in the West these days. My best professional judgment is that he's a murderer, and I'm afraid that you'll have to bring him in—if those bloodthirsty Apaches haven't caught him yet.”
    The column of Apaches came to a stream at the end of a narrow winding canyon. They dismounted,sentries were posted, and they watered their horses. Duane knelt beside his animal, filled his hat full of water, and drank deeply as he regarded the Apaches warily. They moved quickly, brightly, and were extremely athletic, with sinewy arms and legs, deep bronze coloring, and rugged confidence. They continually glanced around, searching for possible danger. Delgado ambled toward Duane, accompanied by three of his warriors. He looked Duane up and down skeptically. “I am afraid that we will have to blindfold the both of you now.”
    Duane didn't resist as they wrapped the cloth over his eyes. A few feet away Phyllis submitted to the same fate. The world went dark around them, and they were led to their horses. They climbed into their saddles, and the column moved out again, heading in a direction that Duane couldn't discern. He tried to be optimistic, but he knew that Apaches hated white men. Something told him that he probably wouldn't be alive when the sun went down that night.
    Marshal Dan Stowe sat at a table in Gibson's General Store, his map spread before him, a glass of whiskey holding down one edge. His guess was the fugitives had gone straight south, in an effort to reach Mexico as soon as possible. The first border town on the route was Morellos, and that was where Stowe hoped to intercept them. Braddock and PhyllisThornton had a head start, but he