Hanging in Wild Wind

by Ralph Cotton

  The sheriff and the bounty hunter gave each other a respectful nod.

  “Those damn Black Valley Riders,” said Braden, looking away from Thorn and down at the bodies strewn on the dirt street. “I should’ve known.”

  “I would have come to you first if I’d had the time, Sheriff,” Sam said. “But while I had these three gathered close, I figured I best get it done.”

  “Except for Parsons, Sheriff,” Thorn cut in. “We shot him.”

  “We? Who’s we?” Braden asked, looking all around.

  “My partner, Sheriff,” said Thorn. He gestured a nod in the direction of the rise of dust as it neared the dirt street from the stretch of sandy flatlands. “Here he comes now.”