MARSHALL! MARSHALL! Came the cry as the door to his office swung open.

“What is it, Lester?” said Marshall Joshua Stone looking up from his desk.

Out of breath and all excited, Lester handed him the telegram he had just received. The Marshall read it aloud:

Marshall Stone “STOP”

Begley Gang robbed bank in Clover. “STOP”

Killed four men including a Deputy. “STOP”

Seen heading your way. “STOP”

Be careful of them Josh. “STOP”

Signed: Sheriff Cletus Thompson “STOP”

“This just come in Lester?” The Marshall asked calmly.

“Sure did, Marshall. As soon as it came in over the wire I rushed it right over to you.” the man said still breathing heavily from his run across town. “You gonna round up a Posse and go after them?”

“Sure looks that way.” the Marshall said.

All nervous and squirrelly acting, Lester slowly walked out of the Marshalls’ office and made his way over to the saloon and began telling everyone about the telegram. Within the hour, there were four men on horseback and a pack mule outside the Marshalls office.

“We are ready to go with you” one of the men said. It was Tom Johnson, the Blacksmith. Tom was 6’2”, red hair and brown eyes, 34 years old. Tom was the kind of person who you could depend on no matter what the situation was.

Next, there was Melvin Dixon, a local ranch hand. Melvin was 5’9” sandy blonde hair and blue eyes, 24 years old. Melvin knew the land around these parts for at least a hundred miles in all directions. And he was very good with a gun.

There was David Grey, he had a small piece of land just outside of town. David was 6’0” with blonde hair and green eyes, 32 years old. Mostly just a farmer, he served as a military scout for 3 years. He had pretty much kept to himself after his wife and daughter died from the plague a few years back but he was always volunteering himself for anything dangerous. He wanted to die and be with his family, but killing himself was against his religion.

Last, there was Walter Rook, he was a big cattle rancher and owned a few silver mines. He was 6’1” brown hair and brown eyes, 45 years old. Walter was a hard rugged man who believed in justice and was once a sheriff in the Arizona Territories before retiring and raising cattle.

Walter looked at Joshua as he stood in the doorway of his office looking out at the four men. “Marshall, your horse is saddled and ready to go.” he said. “Plus, we’ve loaded down ol’ Betsy here with enough supplies to last us 2 weeks if need be”.

Joshua stepped down from the old wooden walkway and had each man raise his right hand as he deputized them. He handed each one a badge and thanked them for volunteering. He looked each one over slowly before asking if any of them wanted to back out now they could with no ill-will towards them.

The four men sat proudly in their saddles, none of them moved, they were all silent, just staring back at the Marshall when he spoke: “ok, boys, you know the routine.” And Joshua climbed on his horse and the began heading South-East towards the Reservations.

Joshua was a fair man, a just man. He was liked by everyone in the area, except the law-breakers. Joshua stood 6’4”, very broad shouldered, smut black hair and eyes to match. His glare was that of cold steel. He had been offered the job as Mayor a few times but Joshua couldn’t see himself in a suit, not now, not ever. He figured when he died he would wear a suit then, but for now, his clothes were comfortable and he loved his job.

David road ahead of the men looking for any sign of the Begley Gang. He did what he could to stay off the Reservation Lands. That was one thing the Marshall had done that even the Government couldn’t do, make peace with the local tribes around town. They were always welcomed in town and were treated with the same respect that any one else in the area was treated with and in return during the harsh winters the tribes were always trading their blankets and crafts to Markus at the General Store for food and other supplies they needed to help them survive until the Spring.

“Marshall, over here” David yelled out. As the men rode over David showed them the trail.

“This is Chief Yellow-Eyes territory” the Marshall said. “Maybe they stayed close to the hillside.”

“Why is that” Melvin asked.

Walter told them that Yellow-Eyes did not trust the white-man. And he went on telling them about the slaughter of his tribe almost 20 years ago. “The Army came in and forced them to move from their land because some rich railroad man wanted it to build his house on.”

“I remember that well” Joshua said. “seems like over 100 Braves lost their lives and almost the same amount of women and children.”

“That’s right” Walter said. And every time someone is caught trespassing on Yellow-eyes land they are either never seen again or tortured so badly they are dead within a week of being let go.”

Tom looked at the trail for a moment, studying it, and turning back to the other men he said “if the Begley Gang did get caught by Chief Yellow-Eyes, I don’t believe he could inflict enough pain and punishment to make them pay for their crimes.”

All the men nodded in agreement before setting out to follow the trail. They made camp as the sun began to set and each man took a 2 hour watch as the others slept. At sunrise, the horses were saddled, the camp site was taken care of and the men began following the trail once more. They followed the trail for almost 2 days when Tom saw some vultures circling in the distance. He pointed and showed the men and they hurried to where they were flying at.

When they got there the Marshall looked at the body on the ground, arrow in his chest and most of his face was gone from the hungry buzzards circling above.

“Who is it, Josh?” Tom said.

“It looks like Rusty” he replied.

“Are you sure?” Walter said getting off his horse.

“I’m pretty sure of it” the Marshall said. “Look, Rusty is the only one that wears two Colt .45’s and his trade-mark brown derby is over there at that bush.”

The men looked at the hat then back at the dead body on the ground. Tom got off his horse and walked over to the mule and took two shovels off and handed the other to Melvin and they began digging his grave. After they had covered the body, Tom put the Colts in his saddle bag and placed the brown derby on a make-shift cross over the grave. Melvin looked at the grave and whispered under his breath “I hope you were still alive when those buzzards started plucking your eyes out.” Walter heard him and shook his head as he went back to his horse.