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best.”
    â€œBetter than you?”
    â€œI don’t know. He’s quick. I’ll give him that.”
    Raven studied the man as he drew closer. “You two are about the same age, I’d guess.”
    â€œJust about.”
    Dolan reined up in front of the cafe and sat his saddle, staring at Frank for a moment before saying, “Morgan. It’s been a few years.”
    â€œAbout ten years, Dolan. I heard you finally caught some lead and got planted.”
    â€œIt was close, for sure. But I fooled the Reaper again.”
    â€œI’ll leave you two to reminisce about old times,” Doc Raven said. He walked away after a curt nod to Dolan.
    â€œFriend of yours, Morgan?” Dolan asked.
    â€œThe town’s doctor and namesake. Raven.”
    â€œInteresting name. Wonder if it’s really his.”
    Frank shrugged. “It’ll do. You know how it is out here, Dolan.”
    â€œFor a fact, I do. I’ve plumb forgot the name my parents give me.” He smiled. “Ah ... you do know that we’re cut off here, Morgan?”
    â€œSo I’m told. With a bunch of rich men from back East and their hoity-toity women.”
    â€œThey all put up money for this hunt, Morgan, and yet here you are, standing around like nothing important is taking place.”
    â€œHow much money is on my head, Dolan?”
    â€œI ain’t sure. Thousands of dollars, I’m told. The last man standin’ after you hit the ground is the winner, so I’m told.”
    â€œSo it’s not just me that’ll have to watch his back.”
    â€œWhat do you mean, Morgan?”
    â€œYou said it yourself, Dolan. ’The last man standing.’”
    Dolan frowned. “Yeah. That do put a different light on things, don’t it?”
    â€œI would say so.”
    â€œI reckon I better start clearin’ the herd some.”
    â€œWhy don’t you do that.”
    â€œI will, in due time, Morgan. You ain’t plannin’ on cuttin’ out, are you?”
    â€œI’m going to stick around. I wouldn’t miss this show for the world.”
    â€œYou’re a strange man, Morgan. Mighty strange. See you.”
    Morgan nodded and watched as the man lifted the reins and rode away. Boot-steps sounded on the boardwalk to his left. A cold voice said, “Turn around and face me, Drifter. I got dollar signs in my eyes.”

Five
    Frank turned slowly. The man only a few steps away was a stranger, but he had the hard-bitten stamp of a hired gun on his face and in his eyes. “Has the hunt begun already?” Frank asked softly, his right hand near the butt of his Peacemaker.
    â€œI ain’t been told otherwise, so I reckon so.”
    â€œYou got any kin?”
    â€œHuh? What business is it of yourn whether I do or not?”
    â€œSomeone’s going to have to be notified of your death, stranger.”
    â€œMy death! What the hell are you talkin’ ’bout?”
    â€œYou pull on me and you’re a dead man,” Frank said, his voice cold as the grave.
    The stranger hesitated, then said, “You damn sure of yourself, ain’t you, Drifter?”
    â€œI sure am. Now turn around and walk away from me and live.”
    â€œNaw,” the man said, shaking his head. “I done made my brags. So grab iron, Drifter.”
    â€œAfter you,” Frank replied, meeting the man’s eyes. “It’s your show.”
    Across the street, the occupants of the newly arrived wagons had climbed down and were silent, watching the life-and-death standoff between the two men on the boardwalk.
    â€œSo that’s Frank Morgan?” Maxwell Crawford asked his friend Bernard Harrison.
    â€œThat’s him. A rather unimposing chap, isn’t he?”
    â€œCertainly seems that way from here. Who is that lout confronting him?”
    â€œI have no idea.”
    â€œHi-ho, chums,” Horace Vanderhoot said, walking up, his wife,