Longarm’s lost a friend, but he’s not about to lose the fight… After saving soiled dove Lucy Potter from two attackers, Longarm takes pity on the young woman. He buys her a new dress, gets her cleaned up, and takes her out for a fancy steak dinner. Lucy’s got a good heart, and Longarm hopes his kindness might encourage the jaded prostitute to try another line of work. But before Lucy can begin her new life, she’s killed by the same men who attacked her. Blinded by rage, Longarm can no longer see the line between justice and revenge. He turns in his badge and rides off after the killers. But as he trails them to Rock Springs, he learns the killing was premeditated—and greed was the motive… Tabor Evans is the author of the long-running Longarm western series, featuring the adventures of Deputy U.S. Marshal Custis Long. Chapter 1 United States Deputy Marshal Custis Long was strolling along Cherry Creek after a day at the office, and it felt good to be outdoors enjoying the weather. It was mid-May and the air was cool, the trees had leafed out, and there wasn’t a cloud in the deep blue Colorado sky. He was dressed in his usual brown tweed suit and vest, a blue-gray shirt with a shoestring tie, and a flat-brimmed hat that was dark brown in color. Being a handsome and tall man at six feet four inches, he always caught the attention of people . . . especially young women. “Afternoon, ma’am,” he said to each of the ladies he passed, many of whom blushed. And then to a well-dressed gentleman, “Afternoon, sir. Fine spring weather we’re having, and it looks like our lakes are going to be full again this summer because there’s so much snow up on the mountains.” “You can never have too much water,” the older man agreed as he walked arm in arm with his portly, apple-cheeked wife. “Three years ago we hardly got any snow, and the town was worried about its water supply.” “Yes, it was,” Longarm agreed, passing by. The footpath along Cherry Creek was a popular place for people to stroll and admire the rippling stream and the cottonwoods flushed with their young, pale green leaves. Two boys about thirteen years old were fishing by the bridge and Longarm called, “Catch anything yet?” One boy turned and shook his head. “They aren’t favoring worms today, Marshal.” “Well, maybe you should try some cheese or marshmallows.” “All we got is the worms we dug out of the garden this morning.” “They bite best at sundown,” Longarm called, checking his railroad pocket watch with the gold chain that was attached to a twin-barreled .44 caliber derringer. His Colt revolver bulged under his coat, and it rested butt-forward and was of the same caliber. Longarm was an expert shot, but he drew his pistol only in the most serious situations. Although he had killed a number of outlaws, murderers, thieves, and rapists in his law career, he was never eager to add to the growing list. But suddenly, about a hundred yards upstream, he heard a woman’s scream for help. Longarm drew his revolver and took off up the well-worn dirt path, running fast. The screams were coming from the heavy thickets, and Longarm burst into them ready to do battle with whoever was causing the woman such alarm. “Help!” she yelled. “Somebody please help!” Longarm fought his way through the heavy growth and came upon a young woman being attacked by two large and dirty men. The woman was on the ground with her dress pushed to her waist. One assailant was holding her arms pinned to the earth while the other was tearing off her underclothes. “Stop!” Longarm shouted, taking aim at the men and cocking back the hammer of his pistol. The pair froze and looked up at him. One said, “She’s a whore, Marshal. She came here looking for business, and we’re just about to give her some business. Ain’t no need to draw that gun.” “Get away from her,” Longarm ordered. “Do it now!” The two men released the woman and stepped back. Longarm kept one eye on the attackers and his other on the woman, whose face was dirty and whose cheeks were wet with tears. “Are you all right, miss?” “No, I’m not all right!” She climbed to her feet, pulled up her underpants, and tugged down her dress, which was covered with dirt and debris. “These bastards just tried to rape me. I want them arrested and thrown in jail!” “I was just about to do that, but I wanted to make sure you were unharmed,” Longarm said. “But I am harmed! She held up her wrists to show Longarm the bruises. “These men were going to rape and then kill me!” Longarm glanced at the pair. “What are your names?” “Pete Rafter,” the taller one said. “But she’s lyin’ to you, Marshal. We weren’t going to rape her, and we sure as hell wouldn’t have killed her.” “Not true, Pete!” the woman shrieked, her face contorted with rage. “You were both going to do me dirty!” “Lucy, it’d be damned hard to do you dirty when you were already dirty,” the second man scoffed. “What’s your name?” Longarm asked. “Willie Benton.” “Where do you and your friend live?” “In t