In The Beginning by Gail Daley (top 100 books of all time checklist .TXT) 📕

too; except I was up the hill skinning out a pronghorn I’d just shot. I had time to get undercover, but they cleaned us out of everything but this." He dropped a small bag of gold nuggets on Carlos’s desk.

"What will you do, Lin?" Carlos had asked him.

"I ain’t figured that out yet. But I got a daughter over to Copper City. I figure I’ll go spend some time with her and the kids." Lin had signed the quitclaim papers on the mining claim and stomped out.

When Carlos and the others reached the deserted camp, they dismounted and baited the tricorns before beginning a slow sweep around the area, looking for the trail made by the raiders coming into camp. It was dusk before Red found it; a faint scrape of several tricorn hooves following each other and leading back into the canyon. The found a narrow trail barely wide enough for one tricorn at a time leading into a thorn brush forest

"I wouldn’t recommend following it in the dark boss," he told Carlos. "I’d just as soon catch whatever we find in daylight."

Carlos nodded and went to unsaddle his own mount and unload the pack tricorn. Durango was already making up a fire in the cabin’s fire pit.

The trail into the canyon the next morning was dark and spooky. It wound a serpentine path under overhanging vines that hid the sun, and sticker bushes tore at their clothes. It was impossible for more than one tricorn to travel it at a time. After flipping a round flat disc to decide who would be the trailblazer, Durango led off, followed by Carlos with Red bringing up the rear with the pack animal.

They finally came out into a shaded valley covered by lush grass. A sparkling creek gurgled merrily through the center of it. At the far end of the valley, they could barely make out a cabin, a barn, and what seemed to be a cultivated field and a fenced garden. When he exited the opening in the bushes, Durango stopped, moving just enough so the others could come off the trail.

Down The Rabbit Hole

THE THREE MEN SAT THERE on their tricorns, dumfounded at what they were seeing. Red looked back over his shoulder at the exit to the bushy forest they had just left and back down into the fertile valley. "What is this?" he asked.

"Beats me," Durango opined, scratching his head. "It sure doesn’t look like any outlaw hideout I ever saw."

"Oh, and you’ve seen so many," Red retorted.

"Well, I haven’t seen that many either," Carlos said, "but this place looks more like a prosperous farm than a place where outlaws would go to escape a posse."

He studied the area for a few minutes and before he turned his tricorn over into a stand of Indigo trees. Silently, Red and Durango followed him. Once there, Carlos swung down off the glossy, red-striped tricorn. He loosened the cinch and let the animal drop his head to feed. The men followed his example and sat down to wait. Carlos opened his saddlebags and took out a pair of binoculars. The binoculars were new, and a rarity on St. Antoni where the glass had to be ground and set into the polished wood by hand. Michael St. Vyr had given these to him on his last birthday, but Carlos had seldom needed to use them. He sat down with his back against the smooth bore of a tree and turned the lenses on the farmhouse and garden. After several minutes, he handed the glasses to Red. "Have a look," he said.

Red swept the gaze of the binoculars over the house and barn and wordlessly handed them off to Durango, who did the same. After a moment, Durango handed them back to Carlos.

"There’s a woman and kids down there," Red said.

"Yep," said Carlos.

"Un-huh," Durango repeated.

"Well," Carlos said. "I guess I’m just going to have to go down there to figure out what the set-up is."

"Ah—maybe you should let one of us go," Red said diffidently.

"Why," Carlos asked sharply.

"Well, the fact is Boss, you won’t pass as a tramp drover down on his luck," Durango said.

"Yeah," Red agreed. "I’m sorry, Boss, but no out of work drover would have a fancy 'corn like yours."

"He’d have sold him for eating money," explained Durango. "Now, Red and me, our ‘corns don’t look like anything out of the way special. If that is an outlaw hideout, one look at your ‘corn and they’ll think you’re a bounty hunter or a lawman, so they won’t talk to you."

"Either that or tell you a pack of lies," Red added.

Carlos looked at them in frustration. What they said made sense, even if it went against the grain to let them take the risk instead of himself. "Okay," he said, "you’ve got a point. But both of you go. I’ll sit here where I can give you cover if you have to make a run for it."

"Watch that place where we came out too," Durango suggested. "They might get a visitor."

Carlos nodded and got up to move Red Lightning and the pack tricorn further back into the stand of trees. Durango and Red tightened up their cinches and headed down into the valley toward the farmhouse. Carlos sat back down against the tree and raised his binoculars.

He watched as Durango and Red rode up to the farmhouse. A tall, gaunt man with reddish hair stepped out from the barn to meet them. Although he couldn’t see what was said, Carlos could tell that man was telling them to move on by his gestures. Finally, however, he pointed at a small building near the edge of the cultivated property with an undersized corral, and the two rode toward it.

It looked as if they had talked their way in. Carlos rose and stretched. He had just straightened back up when he heard a branch crack behind him.

"Don’t move, mister," a young voice said. He felt the pressure of a gun