belligerently.

“I don’t think so.” Smoke raised his pistol. “Drop your gun.”

“The hell I will!” The train robber swung his pistol around and fired at Smoke. His shot went wide and the bullet smashed through the window of the door behind him.

Smoke returned fire, and the gunman dropped his pistol, staggering backward, his hands to his throat. Blood spilled through his fingers as he hit the back wall of the car, then slid down to the floor in a seated position. His head fell to one side as he died.

Women screamed and men shouted. As the car filled with the gunsmoke of two discharges, Smoke ran through the car, across the vestibule, and into the next car.

The gunman in the next car, having heard the shot, called for his partners. “Red! McDill! Slim, get in here quick!”

Smoke and the gunman exchanged fire, with the same result. The gunman went down and Smoke was still standing. Running into the next car, he saw the robber dashing out the back door. He chased after him but didn’t have to shoot him. The gunman was taken down by a club wielded by the porter in the next car.

“Good job,” Smoke said.

“The other two has done jumped off the train,” the porter said.

Smoke jumped down from the train, then moved away from it to get a bead on the two who were running along the tracks. He snapped off a long shot, but missed. He didn’t get a second shot. The outlaws were on horseback and galloping away.

Smoke stood there, holding his smoking pistol as he watched the two robbers flee.

“You need to develop a better sense of timing,.”

Turning, Smoke saw Sally standing on the ground behind him. He embraced and kissed her, then he pulled his head back. “What do you mean, a better sense of timing?”

“If you had been five minutes earlier, the robbers wouldn’t have gotten my reticule.”

“Sorry. How much did they get?” Smoke asked.

“Just my purse,” Sally said with little laugh. “I had already taken everything out of it.”

Several others came down from the train and all thanked Smoke for coming to their rescue.

“Look here!” someone shouted. “The two that got away dropped their sacks!”

“The ones inside never even made it off the train with their sacks,” another said. “Ha! Ever’-thing they took is still here!”

“Cephus, how long will it take you to get the steam back up?” the conductor asked.

“Fifteen minutes,” Cephus said. “Maybe half an hour.”

Smoke looked at Sally. “Do you want to wait until they get the steam back up? Or do you want to come with me now? I left a buckboard just up the track a short distance.”

“My luggage is on the train,” Sally said.

“Ma’am, after what your man just did, if you want your luggage, I’ll personally open the baggage car and get it,” the conductor said.

Mitchell “Red” Coleman and Deekus McDill were the two robbers who got away. They got away from Smoke’s avenging guns, but they did not get away with any money.

“Nothin’!” McDill said. “We didn’t get a damn thing!”

“Maybe the day ain’t goin’ to be a total loss,” Red said.

“What do you mean, it ain’t a total loss?”

“Look over there.”

“What, a store? What good is a store goin’ to do us? We ain’t got no money to buy nothin’.”

“Who said we were goin’ to buy anything?” Red said.

Finally understanding what Red was talking about, McDill smiled and nodded.

Fifteen minutes later they rode away from Doogan’s store. Behind them, Jake Doogan and his wife lay dead on the floor. The total take for the robbery was seventy-eight dollars and thirty-five cents.

PINNACLE BOOKS are published by

Kensington Publishing Corp.

119 West 40th Street

New York, NY 10018

Copyright © 2011 William W. Johnstone

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.

PUBLISHER’S NOTE

Following the death of William W. Johnstone, the Johnstone family is working with a carefully selected writer to organize and complete Mr. Johnstone’s outlines and many unfinished manuscripts to create additional novels in all of his series like The Last Gunfighter, Mountain Man, and Eagles, among others. This novel was inspired by Mr. Johnstone’s superb storytelling.

If you purchased this book without a cover, you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the publisher, and neither the author nor the publisher has received any payment for this “stripped book.”

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

PINNACLE BOOKS and the Pinnacle logo are Reg. U.S. Pat. & TM Off.

The WWJ steer head logo is a trademark of Kensington Publishing Corp.

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