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contact would be there waiting for him. He spotted the glint of sun off cold steel and headed toward it.
    â€œKind of risky carrying a rifle around these parts with everyone looking out for badmen, don’t you think?” Jesse said. He tipped his hat back slowly, careful to keep his hands in plain sight all the time.
    â€œDon’t know who you can trust nowadays,” the other cowboy answered. “Your name Whitelaw?”
    Jesse nodded. “From the description I got, you’d be Mort Barnes.”
    The cowboy had been easy to identify because he had a deep scar through his right eyebrow that made it look as if he had come close to losing his eye. In fact, the eye was clouded over and Jesse doubted whether Mort had any sight in it. The other eye was almost yellow with a black rim around it. Mort more than made up for the missing eye with the glare from his good one. Black hair sprouted beneath a battered straw cowboy hat and a stubble of black beard covered his cheeks and chin.
    Jesse evaluated the other man physically and realized if he had to fight him, it was going to be a tooth and claw affair. The cowboy was lean and rangy from a life spent on horseback. He looked tough as rawhide.
    â€œTell your boss I got the job,” Jesse said.
    Mort smiled, revealing broken teeth. The man was a fighter, all right. “Yeah, I’ll do that,” Mort said. “How soon you figure you can get your hands on that prize bull of hers?”
    â€œDepends. She keeps him in the barn. He’s almost a pet. It won’t be easy stealing him.”
    â€œThe Boss wants—”
    â€œI don’t care what your boss wants. I do things my way, or he can forget about my help.”
    Mort scowled. “You work for the Boss, you take orders from him.”
    â€œI don’t take orders from anybody. I promised I’d steal the bull for him and I will. But I do it my way, understand?” Jesse stared until Mort’s one yellow eye glanced away.
    â€œI’ll tell the Boss what you said. But he ain’t gonna like it,” the cowboy muttered.
    â€œIf he doesn’t like the way I do things he can tell me so himself,” Jesse said. “Meanwhile, I don’t want any more cattle stolen from the Flying Diamond.”
    The look in Mort’s eye was purely malicious. “The Boss don’t like bein’ told what to do.”
    â€œIf he wants that bull, he’ll stay away from here. And tell him the next time one of his henchmen shows up around here he’d better not be carrying a gun.”
    Mort raised the rifle defensively. “I ain’t rid-in’ around here without protection.”
    Jesse worked hard not to smile. It was pretty funny when the badman thought he needed a gun to protect himself from the good guys.
    â€œDon’t bring a gun onto the Flying Diamond again,” Jesse said. “I won’t tell you twice.”
    It was plain Mort didn’t like being threatened, but short of shooting Jesse there wasn’t much he could do. The outlaw had kept a constant lookout, so he spotted the rider approaching from the direction of the ranch house whenthere was no more than a speck of movement in the distance.
    â€œYou expectin’ company?” Mort asked, gesturing toward the rider with his gun.
    Jesse glanced over his shoulder and knew immediately who it was. “Dammit. I told her I’d come get her,” he muttered. “It looks like Mrs. Farrell. Get the hell out of here and get now!”
    Mort grinned. “Got plans of your own for the Missus, huh? Can’t say as I blame you. Mighty fine lookin’ woman.”
    Jesse grabbed hold of Mort’s shirt at the throat and half pulled the man out of the saddle. The look in Jesse’s eyes had Mort quailing even though the outlaw was the one with the gun. “That’s no way to talk about a lady, Mort.”
    The outlaw swallowed hard. “Didn’t mean nothin’