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Nineteen year old Tim Miller quit the ranch job he had held since the day he turned fifteen. He told his boss Mister Orlando Montano, he wanted to travel a bit before he got too old to stay in a saddle twelve hours a day.

“Now Tim, you know this will always be your home. I reckon Rob will miss you most, being as you rode together. Come back anytime and we’ll be happy to see you.”

Tim slowly rode out headed toward Raton, but looked back several times. What was pushing him to travel? Was he doing the right thing? A week later as he got within a few miles short of La Veta Colorado, and found a rancher sitting beside a Ponderosa Pine with a bullet in his leg, he guessed maybe God had sent him on this route for a reason.

“Looks as if you’d be needing some help there feller.”

“If you’d get that canteen off my saddle, I’d be obliged.”

As he slowly took a drink of water Tim asked, “Know who shot you?”

“Yeah, same buzzards that shot my wife. I went after um but one of um got off a lucky shot. I must have lost a dab too much blood, got dizzy and fell out’a that saddle. After a bit I was too weak to even reach that canteen.”

“How far to yore place?”

“Nigh on to five miles southwest up that wide canyon over yonder. Think you could give me a hand to mount?”

“Yes Sir and I’ll see you on home.”

“What’s yore name, Boy?”

“Tim Miller.”

“I’m Casey Gray. Got me a good sized spread up that canyon and am planning to hold on to it at all cost, with lots of bullets and determination if that’s what it takes.”

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