PROLOGUE

Ben Horrocks struck a light to his cigar as he urged his palomino along the zigzag trail leading down from the mesa. He puffed contentedly for a moment; a man at peace with himself and with his lot in life.

"I love this country, Saul," he said to the young man riding along beside him. "It does this old heart of mine good to have you back at the Rocking H. I missed you all that time you was away, boy."

Ben Horrocks was a tall rangy man with an iron grey moustache and deep wrinkles etched in a darkly tanned face. His son, Saul, was a younger version, clean shaven, unlined and apparently without a care in the world.

"And I am glad to be back, Pa. When Ma died I figured I just needed some time to cut loose and grow up a bit. But something told me it was time to come home and help you and Elly." He shook his head and whistled. "And I reckon whatever told me got it right. I hadn’t realized how hard it must have been for you trying to run the place on your own."

Ben blew out a ribbon of smoke and squinted up at the blazing midday sun hanging in a cobalt cloudless sky. "Yes, it has been tough, Saul. But I have a good feeling that we’ll be able to turn everything around now." He patted the bulging saddlebag in front of him. "With this loan from the Tucksville Bank we'll be able to pay the boys what I owe and buy a new bull. I think our luck is about to change, son."

They reached the bottom of the zigzag and the trail narrowed as it crossed the semi-desert with its numerous saguaro cactus and thickets of yellow blossomed paloverde.

"I think you’re right there, Pa," Saul replied with a grin. "What say we speed up some and get this money back to show Elly? My little sister could do with some cheering up. She needs a man in my opinion."

Ben tossed his head back and gave a short snort-like laugh. "Well she might get one soon as well. It could be helpful, if you catch my drift."

"You mean Jeb Jackson at the Double J?"

"That’s what I’m thinking. He’s real keen on her, you know."

In reply Saul raised his hat and gave a loud whoop. "Well, Pa," he said with a mischievous grin, "I reckon I’d better hurry off home right now and tell Elly just what you’ve got in store for her." And with a kick of his heels he urged his roan down the narrow trail.

"Don’t you say any such thing, you young varmint!" Ben cried in mock annoyance. "Anyways, I reckon my palomino will be home long before that piece of crow-bait you call a horse." And with a guffaw of good humor he kicked his heels to set the big palomino after the roan.

The palomino had only just begun to lengthen its stride as he watched Saul streak past a thicket of paloverde. Then he watched in disbelief as he saw the unmistakable shape of a rifle barrel suddenly protrude from the thicket and discharge.

He saw the puff of smoke and heard the report of the gun. And as he flicked his eyes ahead, he saw his son’s arms go out and his head shoot backwards as if he had received a battering blow to his back. Then he tumbled from the saddle to lie unmoving in the sand.

Fear and anger fought for mastery as he reined the palomino in and clawed for the Peacemaker at his side. In his young days he had been no slouch with a gun. He cleared leather, his thoughts now being a tumble of self-preservation, desperation to get to his son, and a desire for revenge against this murderous bushwhacker.

As if in slow motion he saw the rifle barrel swivel in his direction as he raised his gun, his thumb ratcheting back the hammer.

But the rifle fired twice in rapid succession, both bullets hammering into his chest. He tumbled backwards off the horse.

And as his life ebbed away he cursed himself for not being there for his son. For not being there for his daughter.

"Luck – just changed –" he gasped as his heart beat its last ever beat.