Caught Dead-Handed . . .

He watched long enough to know Rawhide Rawlins wasn’t among these men—these slaves. Slocum drifted through the buildings, hidden by heavy shadows. He found a bunkhouse filled with sleeping men and loud snores. Rawlins might be here. He started to lift the latch and enter when he heard the metallic click of a rifle being cocked behind him.

“You’re a dead man if you so much as twitch toward that gun of yours,” came the cold command. “Get those hands up and turn around.”

Slocum did as he was told and saw he was in a worse predicament than he’d thought. Not one guard but three had caught him. He might throw down on one and hope to escape, but three? No way in hell was he going to shoot his way out of this.