He swallowed hard and sauntered over to the bodies, his rifle poised and trigger finger ready.

The eyes of all the men were wide open and their mouths contorted as if they had been scared to death. He recognized the man in the pin-striped suit as the banker from the Amarillo bank. You wanted your money real bad, Lucas thought. He spat on the man's dust-covered suit, and smiled.

The stallion whinnied, and Lucas turned to it. Where did it come from? he wondered. He'd never heard of any wild herds in these parts. If there had been a stampede here, the dusty trail would have been more disturbed. No, a stampede didn't explain what had happened here.

He strode over to the stallion. Its eyes seemed to bore right through him. "I don't know where you come from," Lucas said. "But I sure could use you."

The stallion stepped closer to him. "Are you offering me a ride?" Lucas said. It reared its head.

Lucas sucked in his breath. "I'll be a son-of-a-bitch," he muttered. He picked up the saddlebag and draped it over the stallion. Then he swung onto its back. Its whole body glistened. Unbelievable horse flesh, he thought. He stroked the stallion's head. "I'll call you Black," he said. "Let's get you saddled and get the hell outta here."

Without warning Black raced away in the opposite direction. Its gait nearly took away Lucas' breath. It seemed to glide as if its hoofs never touched the ground. Lucas held on to Black's mane. He had no control over it and just held on for dear life.

About an hour later, Black stopped abruptly, nearly throwing Lucas over its reared head. In front of him a sign read: CRIPPLE CREEK 2 MILES. He would buy food there.

Lucas slid off Black's back and caught his breath. "You sure can run," Lucas said, patting it. He was amazed that Black hadn't even worked up a sweat.

He pocketed two hundred dollars from the bank money and hid the saddlebag in the brush just off the trail. He would pick up the bag on his way back. He got back onto Black and started for Cripple Creek.

The livery was the first building at the edge of town, and Lucas coaxed Black over to it. A short, skinny man appeared in the doorway. His eyes wandered from Lucas to Black.

"You have a saddle for sale, mister?" Lucas said.

"Seen Jimmy Durango ridin' a black hoss jest like that a while back," the man said.

"I asked about a saddle," Lucas snapped.

"I do have one, but ya gotta pay right away."

"How much?"

"Twenty dollars fer the saddle. Another dollar if