Free Brutal Vengeance by J. A. Johnstone

finished his supper and used sand to clean the pan, he spread his bedroll and stretched out. The Kid did his watch and all was quiet.
    The dry air lost the day’s heat rapidly at night, and it was pleasantly cool the next morning in the pre-dawn hours as the posse ate breakfast and got ready to ride.
    It wouldn’t stay that way very long, The Kid thought as a breeze stirred the air. Once the sun was up, the temperature would begin to climb. When the posse moved out, The Kid rode next to Culhane again. None of the others questioned his right to be there.
    “What’s in this direction?” The Kid asked.
    Grinning, Culhane replied, “Well, San Antonio, if you keep goin’ far enough. But it’s five or six days’ ride away from here, at least. In between there are a few little towns and some ranches and a whole lot of nothin’. You ever been to Texas before, Morgan?”
    “Yeah, but not this part. I’ve been to San Antonio, though. Do you think that’s where Latch is headed?”
    The Ranger rubbed his jaw as he pondered the question. “Could be. Plenty of folks in San Antone. Latch and his men might be able to blend in there. Every time after they’ve pulled a few jobs, they drop out of sight for a while, so we know they’re goin’ somewhere and hidin’ out.”
    As the morning went on, the posse rode through more of those miles of nothing Culhane had mentioned. The Kid heard muttering from some of the men, so when they paused to rest the horses, he caught a moment alone with Culhane. “How far are these men willing to go?”
    “I thought you said you hadn’t ridden with a posse before.”
    “I haven’t.”
    Culhane chuckled. “Maybe not, but you seem to know that once fellas have been gone from home for a few days, they start wantin’ to turn around and go back.” The lawman grew serious. “With this bunch, though, the ones from Fire Hill don’t have any homes to go back to. Most of ’em are single men, so they don’t have families to worry about, either. And old man Burton ordered his punchers not to come back without his money, so they ain’t gonna be inclined to give up.” Culhane nodded. “I think they’ll all stick, at least for a while longer.”
    “I hope you’re right,” The Kid said.
    They pushed on.
    After a while Nick Burton moved his horse up alongside The Kid’s buckskin. “How are you today, Mr. Morgan?”
    “I’m fine, Nick. How about you?”
    “All right, I guess.” Nick shifted in the saddle. “This is the most I’ve ever ridden, though. I’m a mite sore.”
    “Did you grow up on your grandfather’s ranch?”
    “No, sir. We lived in Dallas. My father’s a businessman. Has a furniture store there. It’s very successful.”
    “Successful enough that he sent you to school in Philadelphia, I guess.”
    “That’s right. I’ve spent the past few summers on the M-B Connected, though. My grandpa insisted on it.” Nick hesitated. “I think he has some idea that I’m going to take over the ranch someday.”
    “How do you feel about that?” The Kid asked. The conversation helped pass the time.
    “I’d love to,” Nick replied eagerly. “To tell you the truth, Mr. Morgan, I’ve never been that fond of the idea of selling furniture the rest of my life.”
    The Kid had to laugh. “To tell you the truth, I don’t think I’d be happy about that, either.”
    Not after all the changes he had gone through. Business just didn’t have any appeal for him anymore, although there had been a time in his life when he had practically lived for the thrill of dealing in high finance.
    “I don’t know if I’m up to running the ranch, though,” Nick said. “You may have noticed, I’m not very big.”
    “What does that matter? If you’re in charge, and you let everybody else know that you’re in charge, folks tend to forget about how tall you are ... or aren’t.”
    “I’d like to think you’re right, but I’ve never been the sort to take over at anything.”
    “Maybe