They made straight for the old sheriff’s office. Riding hard, they were drenched in sweat and covered with the harsh dust of the open plain, dust which had almost turned their blue army uniforms grey. They didn’t care. They had no time for anything other than what Burroughs had told them to do.
“Cole’s headed for Rickman City,” Burroughs had told them that first early morning before any of them had taken so much as a mouthful of breakfast.
“Why would he do that?” asked Buller, one of the two troopers Burroughs had pulled away from the rest of the Troop.
“He’s sharp,” said Burroughs through his teeth, forever checking back into the sleeping camp in case anyone was stirring. “He put two-and-two together and came up with the right answer.”
“What?”
Burroughs had turned his venomous glare
