Fred Schmidt – författare

Darkhorse glared at Chaco. "e;I might have left the peasants alone if they hadn't tried to stop me, but now it's too late. All a' them will have to die."e;Chaco was getting angry. "e;Darkhorse, you're crazy! Before this is all over, you'll have the entire United States Cavalry down your back."e;"e;It's too bad you won't be around to see that."e;"e;If you wanna make a fight a' this, let me get back to the town an' prepare for the battle."e;"e;Do I look stupid? Without you, that bunch a' fumblin' fools will end up shootin' each other, an' you know it. This is a good place for you to die."e;As Darkhorse reached for his revolver, a shot rang through the air. Judas Barbone fell from his horse, the blood spurting from the bullet in his head. Chaco seized the slim chance, pulled his six-shooter, and started firing at the riders in front of him. The horses, startled by the noise, started bucking and rearing. In the commotion. Chaco turned and made a run for the town. Before the comancheros could get their frightened mounts under control, a barrage of bullets hit the cluster and sent them running into each other. Spurring his horse, Chaco raced toward safety. The distance between him and the oncoming desperados was widening when a flying bullet shattered the back left leg of the horse. The animal reared and fell over on its side, throwing Chaco to the ground. A bullet struck the dirt in front of him as he scrambled to his feet. Looking up, he saw the galloping gang of gunslingers bearing down on him. He turned and ran toward the town. A yell from his left turned his head. Coming in fast was a lone rider, leaning low over the outstretched neck of his mount. Pulling hard on the reins, the horseman spun the mare around, slowing her enough to allow Chaco to swing up behind the rider. Giving the horse her head, the two frantic riders leaned over and held their breath, expecting any second that a bullet would find its mark. They started to breathe easier as they saw the town coming up fast. Their reprieve was short-lived. The mare stiffened and then seemed to relax. Her front legs foundered, and she fell forward, flipping over on her back. Chaco leaped out to his right, away from the plunging animal, but the front rider couldn't break from the stirrups and the horse fell on his leg. Coming to his feet. Chaco rushed over and started pulling on the trapped man. Bullets whizzed by as he strained at the one pinned leg. Realizing that time was running out. Chaco twisted his newfound savior round the dead horse, sheltering him from the deluge of gunfire. Grabbing his rifle from the saddle's scabbard, he ducked behind the horse and started returning fire.