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late.”
    Langley stared at his fellows as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing.
    Ian quoted, “ ‘There is a way that seemeth right unto a man, but the end thereof are the ways of death.’ Proverbs 16:25.”
    Out of the corner of his eye, he saw one of the men by the sheriff raise his gun. Ian whirled and fired. Horses reared, men cried out, and when the quiet resettled three of the five were on the ground writhing in pain from the bullets in their shoulders and arms. The two wide-eyed men still mounted slapped the reins across their horses and hightailed it out of there.
    Ian watched them riding hard across the plains.
    The three he’d shot slowly clambered to their feet. From the pain and fear on their faces, it was apparent they hadn’t been expecting resistance when they joined Langley’s merry band of vigilantes.
    Ian announced to them, “Boys, you have one minute to hand the sheriff your guns, mount up, and ride away.”
    They needed only a portion of the allotted time, and escaped on their mounts.
    Ian was liking the odds more and more. He turned a wintry gaze on the wide-eyed Langley. “Are you going to let the train pass or do I shoot you three, too?”
    The two men flanking Langley didn’t need the question repeated. One rode off without a word, while the other, eyeing Ian warily, stayed just long enough to say to his boss, “Sorry, Mr. Langley,” before wheeling his horse around and riding after the others.
    â€œNeed your answer right now,” Ian told Langley.
    Sheriff Wells declared, “I’ll answer for him.” Irritation filled his face. A big Colt filled his hand. “Langley, you’re under arrest.”
    â€œThe hell I am!”
    Wells shot him in the leg. The big man yelled out in pain as he tumbled from the horse. While he lay writhing and cursing, Wells walked over to his female prisoner. “Miss, if you’d hold out your arms, I need my bracelets back.”
    She obliged and while she massaged her freed wrists, Wells snapped the cuffs on Langley and hauled him to his feet.
    With a bullet wound in his leg, standing appeared to be difficult for Langley, but it wasn’t Ian’s concern. None of it was. He’d neutralized the situation and could now return to his seat. He gave the woman a passing glance and started back to the train.
    The sheriff’s voice followed his steps. “Bigelow, I’m going to take this vermin back to Dowd. Need you to take my prisoner to the sheriff in Kansas City.”
    Thinking he must have misheard him, Ian stopped and turned back. “Excuse me?”
    â€œLangley’s going to jail for impeding a train, assault on peace officers, and anything else I can come up with, but I can’t be in two places at once.”
    Ian stared between the watching woman, the mutinous-looking Langley, and the sheriff. “Who says I’m going to Kansas City?”
    â€œThe train schedule says Kansas City is the next stop, and you are a peace officer.”
    Ian sighed. He’d taken the oath a few years back to help out a friend, nothing more. He didn’t even know if the appointment was still valid.
    â€œAnd make sure you keep a tight rein on her. She’s already tried to escape once.”
    Wonderful, he thought and glanced over at the dirty-faced woman. “Tell me what happened between you and his son.”
    She calmly detailed the times Hugh Langley attempted to force his way into her bed, and the sequence of events that led to his death. Having met Hugh’s father, Ian was inclined to believe every word, but he wasn’t the judge.
    â€œBitch is lying!” Langley snarled.
    Wells glared. “Coroner says she’s telling the truth. I’d’ve already dropped the charges, but knew I’d have to deal with this one,” and he indicated Langley, “so I wanted to wait and have the judge rule.”
    â€œI need a doc,