As he tied the last prisoner, Tex looked up at the stars. "Superstition's a weapon, Kit. So is greed. But the truth? That's a faster draw than either."
The sun bled red over the Arizona desert. Tex Willer reined in his palomino, Navajo, and studied the tracks below the canyon rim. Five riders — shod horses, one dragging a hoof — headed toward the abandoned mission at Mesa Roja. Tex Willer Pdf
Bullock reached for his gun. Tex's Colt .45 cleared leather first — a single shot sent the sheriff's pistol spinning. The others froze when Kit's rifle clicked from the bell tower. As he tied the last prisoner, Tex looked up at the stars
"Two more days," Bullock said, "and we declare the road haunted. Then the railroad buys the ghost route from the territory — cheap. And we get paid." But the truth
"Same as the others," Tex muttered to Kit Carson's son, Kit Willer, riding beside him. "The stagecoach guards never saw the attackers. Said they 'rose from the earth and vanished into stone.'"
Tex stepped from the shadows. "Evening, Sheriff. Ghosts don't usually carry Winchester '73s."
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