As Nate Love placed flowers on his murdered son’s grave, he wondered who it was would shoot that boy in the back and over one damn cow? It was the cruellest of fates, he thought, not to know who did it. There ought to at least be that kind of justice in the world. He knew there wasn’t, though. He would have to find it for himself. But how could he do it alone? That was when he went and wrote a letter to Monroe Hawks – “the meanest son of a bitch that ever lived.” When they rode for Hanging Judge Parker, they were respected by the god-fearing and the godless alike. But that was then… Now both are long past their prime. Both know that soon they are going to be facing younger, stronger, faster men.
©1995 Bill Brooks (P)2012 Isis Publishing Ltd