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named Joshua Shade.
    Sam didn’t think they were wrong, though. No other explanation made sense, considering the murder of the lookouts and the signals sent from atop the hotel and the bank.
    Sheriff Cyrus Flagg ran out of the sheriff’s office in a nightshirt that flapped around his thick calves, testifying that he’d slept in the back room of the office. He had a Winchester in his hands. The men on the street had started to stream toward the hotel, so he joined them.
    “In the name o’ all that’s holy and half that ain’t, what’s goin’ on here, Two Wolves?” the lawman demanded of Sam as he came to a stop in front of the hotel.
    “Your lookouts have been murdered, Sheriff,” Sam replied, his face grim. He didn’t know for sure that the sentry on top of the bank was dead, but it seemed pretty likely considering the signal that had been sent from there.
    “Murdered!”
    Sam nodded. “Matt and I think that Joshua Shade is about to attack the town.”
    That brought cries of fear and alarm from the men gathered in the street. “What’re we gonna do, Sheriff?” one of them asked Flagg.
    The sheriff thought for a second, then said, “Spread out all over town. Bang on doors and tell folks to get ready, if they ain’t already. Make it quick, though, and then hunt some cover. It won’t be long until Shade and his bunch are here, I reckon.”
    “We’ll give those owlhoots a lot hotter welcome than they’re expectin’!” one man said.
    Sam wasn’t so sure of that. Even up in the hills, Shade might have heard the shots and realized that the townspeople were aware of the threat.
    Would that be enough to make him call off the attack?
    Sam didn’t know, and the citizens of Arrowhead couldn’t afford to take that chance. They had to be as ready for trouble as they could get in the next few minutes…because it was probably already on the way.
     
    More than forty strong, the gang swarmed down out of the hills with Joshua Shade in the lead. He was bare-headed, and the wind whipped his longish hair around his lean face.
    Beside him rode his second-in-command, a heavily mustached outlaw named Willard Garth. As they galloped toward Arrowhead, Garth raised his voice and asked, “What about those shots we heard, Joshua? You think they know we’re comin’?”
    “It doesn’t matter, Brother Willard,” Shade replied. “The Lord has told me that tonight is the night we need to deliver His message to that sinful town up ahead, and that’s exactly what we’re going to do!”
    “And clean out the bank while we’re at it, eh, Boss?” Garth said with a wolfish grin.
    “It takes money to do the Lord’s work!” Shade said, then gave a maniacal howl of laughter.
    Even if the settlers knew they were coming, it wouldn’t matter. There wouldn’t be time for them to mount an effective defense before the raiders were right on top of them. The gang still had enough of an element of surprise, even if the men sent into town to kill the lookouts had been discovered.
    Besides, Shade and Garth knew that the citizens of Arrowhead didn’t represent any real danger. They were storekeepers, blacksmiths, and clerks. There might be a few tough cowboys from the nearby ranches in the saloons, but when you stopped to think about it…
    Just how many real fighting men could there be in a place like this anyway?
     
    Sam was about to go looking for Matt when he spotted his blood brother running along the street toward the hotel. Matt reached the porch and bounded up onto it.
    “I suppose you were responsible for those shots I heard a couple of minutes ago?” Sam said.
    Matt grinned humorlessly. “Who else?”
    “What about the lookout on top of the bank?”
    “Dead,” Matt said as even the bleak grin disappeared. “Throat cut just like the other fella. Poor son of a bitch probably died before he even knew what was goin’ on.” He looked around at the men running here and there in the street as they got ready for the