“The shadows of the tall trees stretched eastward, and between them streamed a red-gold light from what was left of the sun’s fire just above the horizon. In the lead, Barton hipped around in the saddle and said, “Okay, boys, let’s make camp for the night. We don’t need to get any closer to Idaho Springs till tomorrow at noon. That’s when we’ll hit the bank.” Barton guided his horse into a small open area, dismounted, and said to his men as they were also dismounting, “Somebody’s already been he...re not too long ago and left us some rocks stacked just right for a cookfire. All we gotta do is find us some wood. And that don’t look too hard from where I stand.” Vincent Wagner set his eyes on the powerful, muscular Chick Barton. “Boss, I don’t know about us buildin’ a fire. Could be a posse from Golden on our tails. The fire would lead ’em right to us.” Barton rolled his wide shoulders. “This ain’t Kansas, Vince. It ain’t even the plains of eastern Colorado.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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