Sins of the Father by Robert J. Thomas Page A

say we try to stay out of the way and see if the marshal and Sheriff Steele can handle the problem. If not, we’ll hire some more guns to protect this ranch and the water.”
Frank Reedy and the three deputies rode in silence for the first mile or so back to town. Reedy was trying to size Thornton up and figure what kind of man he was. His conclusion was that Thornton wasn’t the problem, but that Thornton would fight back with everything he had if cornered. There was no doubt in Reedy’s mind that Rance Madden would be the problem.
“What are you thinking about, Frank?” Banks asked.
“I’ve just been thinking about Henry Thornton and what he might do to protect his water rights.”
“The way I see it, Thornton will fight when pushed too far,” replied Banks.
“That’s the way I see it, too.”
“Me too,” added Abel, as he turned to Buck, “Buck, what’s your take on this? You’ve known Thornton for some time. Are we right?”
“I’ve know Thornton as a decent man who never started a fight. I agree, though, that he will fight when forced to and he will go to great lengths to protect that water and his land. If this war gets started, it will be a bloody one, and that’s a fact,” answered Buck.
“I’m afraid you are exactly right about that,” said Reedy. “We might as well start planning for the worse.”
Q
    uentin Unger and Gregory Timmons rode into Timber just before dusk. They went into Jed’s Saloon to get a drink and as luck would have it, they found the sheriff and one of his deputies sitting at a table drinking coffee. Now that they could identify the sheriff, they could move along with their plan. Their plan included starting a fire in a small shack at the end of town that was vacant. That would cause a distraction and would most definitely bring the sheriff out into the open.
“What about the deputy?” Unger asked.
    “What about him? We’ve been paid to kill Steele, not the deputy.”
“Yeah, I know that, but once we shoot the sheriff, we’ll have his deputy on our trail before we can put some distance between us. I say we shoot the deputy, too. I didn’t see any sign of that U.S. marshal or his deputies in town.”
“Maybe you’re right. If we shoot them both, we can probably get a good head start. I’ll take the sheriff and you take the deputy,” said Timmons.
Sheriff Steele and Tex were still relaxing and drinking hot coffee when one of the townsmen ran into the saloon. “Sheriff, that old shack down the end of the street is on fire.”
“Well,” said Tex, “so much for a relaxing night. Next thing you know, we’ll have a gunfight and who knows what else.”
“I’m sure glad you look on the bright side of things, Tex.”
“Trouble always comes in pairs, the way I see it.”
Sheriff Steele and Tex walked out and headed down toward the fire. Men were already throwing buckets of water on the shack, but they were quickly losing the battle. Steele and Tex were about two hundred feet from the fire when a bullet hit Steele from behind, whirling him around from the impact, a second bullet slamming into him before he hit the dirt. A fraction of a second after the first bullet hit Steele, two bullets slammed into Tex, the first one in his left shoulder and the second one in the right leg, just below the hip. The two men fell into the dirt at the same time. Quentin Unger and Gregory Timmons were on their horses not more than five seconds after that and making a full run south of town, both dragging an extra horse.
With all the commotion and yelling about the fire, it took a full minute or so before anyone came to the realization that shots had been fired. Jed, who was still in the saloon, had heard them. When he ran outside, he spotted Sheriff Steele and Tex lying in the dirt. He yelled over to the dozen or so men who were still valiantly fighting the fire. “Hey, forget about that fire, the sheriff and Tex have been ambushed!” he hollered.
The men who had been fighting the