CHAPTER FIFTY
The shaking grew louder and stronger. Close to the town and stretching back through the woods to the mine, the ground seemed to buckle and groan. Around the remains of the shack, burning embers surrounding the dead bodies strewn amongst the dirt, Reece negotiated a path. His horse had bolted with the initial eruption so his was an arduous and slow journey. Aware of Arapaho eyes on him, he only stopped when he reached the exploded shack. Studying the debris, he took note of the two white corpses, one a blackened, burnt mess, the other, some distance from where the shack once stood, perforated with gunshot wounds. Identification of either was impossible.
“That’s Nathan Kelly,” came a voice.
Reece whirled in a half-crouch, gun whipping up from his holster.
Destry threw up hi
