Description

When a man like Adam Steele has finally put down some roots, then maybe's the time to sit back and rock on the back porch for a while, to recall some of the twists and turns and ambushes on Life's long trail that have led him so far.

Steele was indeed a-sitting and a-rocking and a-thinking. But not on any any back porch. Instead he was stuffed inside a lurching, thinly-upholstered Concord stage, facing a big, middle-aged woman with a disapproving look on her face, a bible in her lap and a Colt Derringer in her hand.

Which she was pointing right at his heart. While beside him another passenger had hysterics, and up on the roof the driver and guard lay sprawled out and bleeding—shot down by the hold up gang who were reining in beside the coach.

All of a sudden it looked like Adam Steele had a long, long past but a very short future indeed.