“They’re nothing to you. Five little rich girls who won’t ever amount to anything. Even if you got them back to their father, he probably wouldn’t take the time to thank you.” Napoleon shrugged. “And that little widow is nothing to no one or she wouldn’t be traveling alone. If she vanishes, no one would miss her.”

The little man put his hands in his pockets and rocked on his heels. “You’re a good fighter, Trapper. If one of my men hadn’t slammed you in the head, you would have taken all three of them down, even Big Hank. I wouldn’t mind having a man like you in my gang.”

“I’m finished fighting,” Trapper lied. He kept his voice low and noticed the stranger in the fog moving closer.

With Big Hank and one of the cowboys gone to get their horses, there was a chance Trapper could shoot two of the three before they got off a shot.

But he didn’t dare act until the rifle moved more than an inch from his head. The cussing outlaw kept tapping the barrel against his chin, as if teasing him.

Trapper growled as he looked away from the dumbest one of the group. In the blink of a moment, he saw blond hair move just above the top of the ravine. One.

Trapper forced his almost-closed eyes open and studied the edge of the small rise. Two’s long, auburn hair flashed and disappeared. Two. Then he saw Three, ten feet away from her sister.

Trapper turned back to the head outlaw. “What if I did join up with you?”

Little Napoleon looked excited at the possibility.

To Trapper’s surprise, the short man glanced at the man in the fog. The day was warming, and the stranger wouldn’t be hidden for long.

“If I rode with you, would I get a cut of the ransom money?”

The short man hesitated, and Trapper knew that the true leader was in the fog, not standing before him. “Who’s the shadow in the fog?” Trapper demanded.

“You never mind him.”

“Oh, come on, Shorty, who is he? He’s standing right behind you.”

“Don’t call me Shorty.”

“Why not? I’m calling this one Drippy. Tell him to stop bleeding on me.” Trapper pointed with his head to the man with the rifle pointed between Trapper’s eyes.

Trapper raised his voice. “If I joined, I’d have three rules. One: Get rid of the shadow, Two: Drippy is yours, and Three: Take Shorty down. Now!”

Three guns blasted as one, ringing through the ravine like a cannonball.

Trapper rolled to his rifle and stood. Shorty was screaming that his kneecap was shot off. Drippy had been shot in his gun arm and was struggling to lift his weapon with his left hand.