Thirty-TwoAnother early morning, the edge taken off the heat this time with bands of thin, grey clouds stretched across the enormity of the sky. Dixon sat upon his horse, pushed down in his stirrups and lifted himself from the saddle to stretch out his back, the ride through the night causing his joints to ache. He pulled off his neckerchief and tipped water from his canteen over it then wiped his face, pressing the material hard against his skin. He was exhausted, but knew he must go on. The people of Twin Buttes would be gathering a posse by now and his trail would prove easy enough to follow. There were only two choices for him to take: Glory or Bovey. He chose Bovey, knowing it to be the town closest to the Pinkerton's ranch. If Simms was not in town, then he would be home. Either way,
