Chapter Fifty Five:
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THE LAST LIGHT of day played along the jagged edge of Ransom Canyon as Staten raced toward the far pasture that bordered the Collins ranch. For him the colors of sunsets across the wide horizon reminded him of Quinn's music. Whenever she played, he thought of his land, ever changing, through the seasons, through the years. Some would describe the terrain as desolate and barren, but if he lived to be a hundred he’d love the views every day.
As much as he loved the land, he hated the sound of gunfire rattling across the calm air. One shot after another seemed to clatter off the clouds and echo through the canyon, warning that trouble was coming to call.
Over the years, Davis Collins had opened his place to friends wanting to hunt, and he also offered leasing rights
