15Two miles south of the ranch, a horse and rider struggled up the end of the ravine. Taylor had been waiting for the man to arrive, but didn’t think he’d be stupid enough to travel alone through Indian country. Only a man on a mission, or running from something—or someone—would choose to ride through Comanche and Kiowa territory by himself. Not even winter stopped the savages from taking scalps.
As he drew closer, the rider suddenly noticed them and paused. Taylor’s gaze narrowed. From the report his man had given him the day before, the man who was going to kill Flores was close. From the hard set of the stranger’s mouth and the desperation driving him here, he thought he knew who this man was, but he needed to be certain.
“Long way from home?” Taylor called out.
The man didn’t answer
