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Derrick on the
other side of the street. A hard light came into his eyes. “Hey,
remember this son of a bitch?” he shouted to Wes Hammond. Danby
laughed mirthlessly. “This is like old-home week! Bet I kill him
first!”
    And, almost simultaneously, they both raised
their guns and fired.
    Instinctively, Bill and Derrick dived for
cover. Bill hit the ground and rolled over to find the protection
of a shed. Derrick dived over a trough.
    Both Danby and Hammond raised their guns
again, moving in for the kill.
    “ Shoot the bastard!” Danby
cried.
    But a shot rang out from close by, and they
both looked round to see its source. Bill saw Jed flatten himself
against the side of a building, his smoking Navy Colt in his hand.
It was enough to distract Danby and Hammond, and since they could
not see where the shot had come from, they took off and their men
followed.
    “ Remember to shoot any horses.
Don’t want any of these Wolf Creekers following!” Danby
cried.
    Bill ran over to Jed. “My God! They’re
shooting the horses. Cholla!”
    “ And my Rojo!”
    Together they raced along Lincoln and rounded
the corner to the livery.
    The first of the raiders were racing along
North Street as Bill and Jed approached the livery. Rojo, Jed’s
beloved strawberry roan gelding, was tethered to the hitching rail
in front just as Jed had left him, alongside a sorrel. Both horses
were snorting and straining to get loose.
    One of the five drew to a halt, pulled out his
gun and shot the sorrel once in the head, and Rojo twice in the
chest. The sorrel dropped dead instantly, but Rojo reeled, and then
collapsed. He lay there, making a fearful noise, with his legs
twitching.
    “ No!” cried Jed, rushing ahead. He
raised his gun and fired at the raider, but missed.
    The gunman made no such mistake. He shot Jed
in the chest. Then, seeing Bill coming along behind him, he let off
a shot at him.
    Jed, feeling his life slipping away, ignored
the gunman and staggered toward Rojo—who lay snorting and
squealing, his eyes rolling and his great chest pumping blood
out.
    “ Rojo,” Jed sobbed. “The bastard
has done for us both.” And realizing that there was nothing he
could do for his mount, his friend of so many years, he dropped to
his knees and patted the horse’s neck. Rojo nickered at the feel of
his owner’s hand.
    “ I can’t stand to see you suffer,
Rojo,” he wheezed as he pressed a hand to the gushing wound on his
chest. He raised the gun to Rojo’s head. “We’ll go together,
buddy!”
    He fired and shuddered as his horse convulsed,
then lay still. Then, with his eyes full of tears, he slumped
forward over Rojo and died.
    The gunman laughed and then turned in the
direction of the stable and the corral beyond, where Bill had left
Cholla and all his other charges.
    Bill seized the opportunity, his heart racing
and his mind full of nothing except the desire for revenge. He ran,
grabbed the gun from Jed’s dead hand, and shot the departing gunman
in the back.
    ****
    Ann and the Li children had taken refuge in
the Expositor where the editor, David Appleford, and his printer,
Piney Robbins, had done their best to keep the boys’ heads
down.
    At last, when the shooting and the screaming
of the dying horses seemed to be over and the gang all seemed to
have ridden off, Piney stood up, grabbed the old Baby Dragoon
pocket revolver that he kept in his desk drawer, and opened the
door into the street. The sight that greeted him made him feel
sick. The street was still full of smoke and the smell of powder
was everywhere. A couple of businesses had caught fire or been
deliberately set alight. Through the haze, he saw the carcasses of
about a dozen horses lying where they had been slain as they stood
tied to hitching rails. Two human bodies lay at the far end of the
street.
    Then he heard the noise of hooves and saw two
gunmen riding fast toward him. He took a step to the edge of the
boardwalk and aimed his weapon.
    The leading raider saw