four riders. Flint was the first to recover from the shock, but Steele was the first to speak.

“McLain?!” he shouted.

There were two resounding clunks as the empty shells fell out of Balto’s snapped-open shotgun. He loaded two more and snapped it shut.

“That’s a good start, Steele,” he replied casually, “Maybe you’ll use my full name next time?”

“There won’t be a next time, not for you.”

“I beg to differ, Steele,” Balto replied.

“Balto, you can’t win this time,” Flint said, “Please just drop your weapon and come out from behind there.”

“You listen to me, Flint. I won’t be strung up for a murder I didn’t commit!”

Steele took a few slow steps back and nodded to Amos, who began to move cautiously around the boulder, pistol drawn and cocked. Then, Steele stepped up beside Flint and blocked his view of Amos, but Flint was concentrating on Balto, not his fellow deputies.

“Balto, this isn’t necessary,” Flint said, “Just lay down your weapon…”

Balto thought of Jenna, and tears filled his eyes.

“No,” he said firmly, pumping his shotgun.

“You’re really pushing your luck, half-breed…”

“Why don’t you guys just pack up and get out of here?” Balto said.

“Balto, you know we can’t do that,” Flint replied.

“Yes you can, you just won’t,” Balto snapped, “The only thing I wanted was to live out the rest of my life in peace. Is that too much to ask?”

“Not at all,” Steele replied, glancing over at Amos, “Just come quietly…”

“I wasn’t addressing you, Steele,” Balto growled.

“I’m sorry, Balto,” Flint said finally, “But one way or another, you’re coming back to Applegate.”

“No! I won’t be hung for a murder I didn’t commit,” Balto shouted.

Flint was stunned by this outburst because for the first time since they left Applegate, he was reminded that the criminal they were hunting might not be guilty.

“Balto, listen…” he said half-heartedly.

“No, you listen to me, Flint. I was framed!” Balto spat, “I was framed by your lousy sheriff and his deputy brother. They pinned the murder on me!”

“Balto, I know you’re upset, but…”

“Shut up, Flint! How can you be so callous? Can’t you see what’s going on? You’ve been kept in the dark this whole time! Can’t you…”

Just then, out of the corner of his eye, Balto spotted Amos moving around the boulder. Amos leveled his pistol and pulled the trigger. Balto spun around and tried to bring his shotgun to bear, but too late. There was a sickening sound much like the popping of a balloon as the bullet plowed through Balto’s chest, and his face contorted in a scream. An instant later his gun went off, and the pellets chipped away a chunk of the boulder, but none found their mark. He staggered back a few steps and fell onto his back, still clutching his shotgun. His vision darkened, and as Amos appeared above him, the last sigh escaped him, and his eyes closed for the last time.

Balto’s eyes flashed open and he found himself bathed in light from all around. He looked about and was shocked to be standing on clouds! With no other logical option, he started walking, and before long he came to a set of stairs before a massive set of shimmering gates. Just then, he heard voices, beautiful beyond description, nearby. Off to his right, he spotted a small group of robed figures gathered in a circle. He couldn’t make out what they were saying, but before he could approach, one of them spotted him and smiled.

“We’ve been expecting you,” she said softly, stepping up to him and starting up the stairs, “Come.”

Balto could hardly argue, and followed the soft-spoken being up the stairs to the gates.

The young female swept her hands in a wide arch and the gates swung slowly open. She then turned to Balto, smiled, and nodded expectantly. Balto started toward the open gates, and the female began to descend the stairs again.

“Wait!” Balto called after her, “Where am I?”

The female turned and smiled again.

“Welcome to eternity.”

There were seven Spanish angels at the alter of the Son. They were praying for the lovers in the valley of the gun.

When the battle stopped, and the smoke cleared, there was thunder from the throne. And seven Spanish angels took another angel home.

Amos smirked and re-holstered his pistol as he started walking back toward his horse. Flint, who had dismounted after the shot was fired, stood near his steed with an expression of both disbelief and despair on his face. Balto’s final words still echoed in his mind, distorting his thoughts. As he glanced around, he felt as though a weight had been placed on his shoulders. He turned back to mount his horse, but suddenly the thunder of approaching hooves reached his ears…

Jenna felt grief grip her heart as she rounded the cabin and urged her horse faster. There, a few feet from the boulder, she saw Balto. He wasn’t moving. She pulled back desperately on the reins and leapt from her steed. By the time she reached Balto’s side, she felt her legs give in and she collapsed to her knees. As she took his body in her arms and covered his face with kisses, she wept. She wept not only for him, but for herself, and for the family they would never know together. Just then, an all too familiar voice reached her ears.

“Put your hands up and step away from the body,” Steele called.

Body! Why you lousy son of a… She looked up and saw him and his deputies, including Flint, advance to within fifty yards of her, rifles drawn.

“No,” she said flatly, trying to mask her voice.

Steele nodded to Eli and Amos, and they fired their rifles. Both rounds were high, but not by much.

“The next shot won’t miss,” Steele growled.

Jenna sighed quietly and wiped her eyes. And although she had no desire to live, she stood up and raised her hands.

Steele smirked, and produced a length of rope from his belt and moved toward her. Flint lowered his weapon as Eli and Amos kept their sheriff covered.

When he was no less than ten feet away, Jenna glanced down at Balto and with a deep breath moved like lightning toward the ground.

She reached down and picked the gun up, that lay smoking in his hand.

Whispered, “Father, please forgive me. I can’t make it without my man.”

Steele recoiled in horror as he found himself staring down the double barrels of a 12-gauge shotgun.

“Hey, whoever you are, there’s no need for this,” he said hastily, “If you kill me, you’ll be hung for it, b-but with just a charge of ‘aided in the escape of a convict’ you’ll be in jail for less than a month. I’ll make sure of that.”

I bet you will, Jenna thought, pumping the shotgun. “Filth,” she whispered, and pulled the trigger.

No blast, just a click that resounded through the canyon.

Jenna felt tears coming. I’m sorry, Balto, she thought, I tried.

And she knew the gun was empty, and she knew she couldn’t win,

But her final prayer was answered, when the rifles fired again.

Two bullets buzzed through the air. She recoiled and twisted in the air as they found purchase in her chest. The shotgun fell to the ground, and she beside it. Steele gave a private sigh of relief, not to show ‘weakness’ in front of his deputies, but Flint suddenly cried out in disbelief.

He had been watching intently during the confrontation and just before the black-clad figure had pulled the trigger on the shotgun he had seen something in the figure’s eyes. Something oddly familiar. Now, with the figure laid out on the ground in front of him, he spotted something that sent shivers down his spine. An orange bandanna had been tucked under the stranger’s vest, and had just now been revealed. Only one person he knew wore an orange bandanna. He broke into a run.

As he dashed past Steele, he whispered something between a curse and prayer, but when he finally reached the ‘stranger,’ he felt like his heart would break.

There before him lay Jenna, with two bullet holes in her chest.

“Oh, Jesus,” he sobbed, falling to his knees, “Jenna!”

Jenna choked and coughed, startling him, but he quickly moved to her side.

“Flint?” she whispered.

‘Oh God, Jenna, what were doing?” he said, taking off his vest and pushing it under her head, “Stay still, I’ll get you out of here. You’ll be okay.”

“Flint, I’m done, just look at me.” She waved her hand weakly over her body. “That’s it. I can’t be saved.”

“No, Jenna, I won’t loose you. Not here, not now!”

“Flint, listen to me,” she coughed, “Steele framed Balto, and I know how to prove it. The knife is missing. Find it…and you’ll…find your man. I’d start with…Steele.”

“Jenna, I can’t…”

“Please, Flint,” she whispered, “Please…”

Her eyes shifted, and she moaned.

Just then, there was the sound of a pistol being cocked. Flint straightened up; the blood chilled in his veins. He turned around and came face to face with Steele. He went for his pistol, but Steele leveled his at Flint.

“No, no. Take it out slowly, and drop it.”

Flint slipped the gun out and dropped it. Steele stepped up to Flint and kicked it away behind him.

“Well, I’m sorry it had to come to this, Flint, but you’ve left me no other choice,” Steele said.

“Steele, what the hell is going on?”

“You see, that’s what I didn’t like about you, Flint. You were slow to catch on. Kind of like Eli…”

Behind Steele’s back, Flint heard Eli’s voice. He was stammering, pleading; probably just as confused.

“Pity…” Steele continued.

“So you did frame Balto,” Flint growled.

“Yes, if it makes you feel better to know, we did,” Steele sighed, shaking his head in annoyance, “It was too easy. But I can’t even trust you now either, so I’m afraid we’ll have to part ways…”

Suddenly, there was a pistol blast from behind him, and Flint watched as a red blotch appeared on Steele’s pant leg. He glanced back in shock, and saw Jenna clutching a smoking pistol; the one he had dropped. Just as he turned back, he saw