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Sheriff Ataman Hayes walked into Doctor Phillip Conway’s office. “Found out who he is yet Doc?”

“No, he had no papers on him, and no money.”

“Must be a cowboy drifter, but could be with one of them cattle drives. Think he’ll live?”

“Yes, he’s young and strong. Why did you shoot him?”

“I didn’t, it was one of my deputies. The freight guards said he tried stoppin’ that last gold shipment as they was loading it on the train. While my deputies was takin’ our five percent cut, he tried grabbin’ it all.”

“Why would he have done that without using his gun? It was, and is still in his holster.”

“You know how some cowboys are just nosey an’ plumb dumb. Let me know when he’s able to ride. I’m keeping his dun stud in the livery. If he dies, it’s mine. I might even jail him ‘till I find what he had in mind.”

“He isn’t going to die, unless another of your idiots shoots him again.”

The sheriff smiled, “I just might have to do that.”

U.S. Marshal Shorty Thompson lay unconscious after a bullet was removed from high in his left shoulder. He was shot from behind as he started to question four men removing gold from a shipment being loaded onto the Wells Fargo box car on the Atchison Topeka Santa Fe Railroad.

This would stop his investigation for awhile. Gold shipments had been coming up short from the Chloride and Winston mines. He was sent to investigate, starting in Engle, New Mexico Territory.



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