Land of the Gunhawks

A list land of the gun hawks. It's one that took place a long way from the old bar 20. Orin Lomax, the son of an old friend of mine, had gotten into a shooting scrape and hit the Alhoot Trail, not knowing that the man he'd shot recovered and cleared him.

Orin's dad asked me to try and bring the boy back before he got into real trouble. Orin's trail led into the Cherokee Strip, the Indian Territory, where outlaws from all over the west took shelter.

California and I finally tracked him through the badlands, the town of Lance, the headquarters for three Jack's gang of bandits. Wow, we're charged. And water country. Nothing but engines, and our floors and rocks. And, oh, and low max California. He rode into join three Jack's gang, he'll be in Lance. That's their hangout.

Yes, and a nice sociable country with bandits for leading citizens. Ha ha, stop complaining. We'll probably have a nice peaceful visit. Show me these shooting rabbits? These bad lands are more like they're someone shooting men.

Those shots are coming over that rise. Wait here, now take a look on foot. What's your see, Hoppy? Four ombres, ganging up on one man down on the basin. Looks like they shot his horse.

Or one, that's kinda tough, huh? I was thinking the same thing, let's even it up a little. Unliver your gun, California, but shoot over their heads. We don't wanna plug anyone until they have to know what the play is all about.

We're... L'Ocarom's Camper. Yeah, they don't act like four to three or good odds. Let's go down and see who we rescued. Hi, stranger. What was the shooting about? When is this in your eyes? You have arrived in time to save my life, you think?