Free One More Sunrise by Al Lacy

towns where they hold up banks, he will have to form his own posse of deputy U.S. marshals and go after them.”
    Dr. Dane nodded. “Do I understand correctly that in the two years this Moran gang has been holding up banks, they have not yet killed anyone?”
    “Yes. Truly amazing, isn’t it? But sooner or later, someone will resist them during a robbery, and the gang will kill them.”
    “I’m sure you’re right about that.”
    “Well,” said the sheriff, “I’ve got to get back to the office. I’ll send a couple of my deputies to pick up the outlaw’s body and take it to the undertaker for burial. The county will foot the bill.”
    Just before the sun lifted its fiery rim above the eastern horizon the next morning, Buck Cummons was boarding his passengers in Casper for the trip south when he noticed a rider galloping his horse down the street.
    He recognized the horse first, then seconds later, he was able to make out the face of the rider.
    Doke Veatch skidded the horse to a halt close to the stage and swung down from the saddle. Moving toward the driver, he said, “Morning, Buck. I’m glad I made it before you pulled out. The sheriff in Cheyenne told me to give this horse to Wells Fargo, so I’ll just run in and tell our friendly agent that he’s got a new horse.”
    Buck studied Doke’s face. “You look pretty tired.”
    “I’m that all right. Darryl Moran died at the doctor’s office in Cheyenne, Buck. I had to ride all night in order to get here in time.”
    Buck chuckled. “Well, I have a hard time feeling sorry for an outlaw when he gets himself killed. Anyway, you can sleep sitting up there beside me in the box while we head south.”
    Doke led Darryl Moran’s horse into the Fargo corral, thenwent inside and informed the agent that he had a new horse.
    Soon the stagecoach—with six passengers aboard—pulled out of Casper and headed toward Douglas, which was some sixty miles away. Doke slouched on the seat next to Buck and dozed for a while, then sat up, yawning.
    Buck looked at him and grinned. “Feel better?”
    Doke yawned again. “Yep. Think I can stay awake now.”
    Buck brought up the Tag Moran gang, commenting on how people all over Wyoming were talking about them, and that all the banks in the territory were tense because they never knew where the gang would strike next.
    Doke yawned once more and nodded.
    Buck said, “Tell me more about your childhood and your acquaintance with the Moran brothers.”
    “Well, we were neighbors in Scottsbluff. As I told you, we grew up together. We were schoolmates and spent a lot of time together. I haven’t seen them in about four years. I don’t know who the other two men in the gang are.”
    The stage hit a bump, causing both men to have to adjust their position on the seat. Buck lifted his hat and ran splayed fingers through his hair. “So you and the Moran brothers were pretty close friends, I take it.”
    “Mm-hmm. Especially me and Tag. He saved my life once.”
    “Oh?”
    “Mm-hmm. When we were boys, we used to swim in the North Platte River together in the summertime a lot. One day Tag, his three brothers, and I were swimming in the North Platte. Tag was seventeen and I was twelve. There had been a lengthy, severe rainstorm in southeast Wyoming and northwest Nebraska the day before, and there was a lot of debris floating in the river. All of us had been swimming for about an hour when we decided to crawl up on the bank and rest.”
    Buck frowned. “Swimming with debris in the river?”
    “Well, up to that point it wasn’t too bad, but I’m about to tell you of the change that came.”
    “Okay.”
    “After a while, I decided to go in again, but at that moment, heavy debris was floating on the river’s surface. Tag told me I should wait till the heavy stuff passed. But you know how twelve-year-old boys are. I laughed and told Tag I could swim around the debris. So I ran and dived in. I didn’t know it, but there was a log