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’tend to this jasper.”
    Hearing her speak, Tract returned his gaze to the blonde. She was standing with her back to him and, going by her actions, was fastening a bandana so it would hide the bottom portion of her face. However, he was not allowed to give her a great deal of attention.
    â€œYou heard me, driver!” the first outlaw barked, coming across the trail in front of the horses as the man with the long black hair at the left side walked toward the woman. “Get down here, fast!”
    Looping the ribbons around the handle of thebrake, Tract eased the Peacemaker from its holster using only the thumb and forefinger of the left hand. Placing it on the seat of the box, he climbed down. On reaching the ground and stepping away from the stagecoach, he saw the door open and the passengers began to emerge.
    Middlesized and slim, the first man to leave the vehicle had a foppish appearance. There was a suggestion of Gallic origins about his swarthily handsome features which were emphasized by a small black chin beard and a moustache with its ends waxed to short points. Worn fussily and indicating he took considerable care over his appearance, his well cut clothing was in the height of current Eastern fashion. Although his movements were closer to mincing than might be regarded as desirable in most masculine company, they had a lithe and cat-like grace about them. It warned, if one took the trouble to study him, that there might be more to him than met the eye. He grasped a well polished black walking stick in his right hand, enfolding its silver knob daintily. However, strangely for that day, age and region, he gave no sign of carrying a firearm upon his person. Certainly he did not exhibit a gunbelt and holstered revolver.
    â€œToss away that fancy walking cane, Monsieur Jaqfaye of Paris, France!” ordered the outlaw acting as spokesman for the gang, pronouncing the honorific, “mon-sewer.” “We wouldn’t want no accidents with it.”
    â€œWhatever you wish, m’sieur, ” Pierre Henri Jaqfaye replied, his voice bearing a noticeable French accent and a timber less than masculine. “Although, if you have no objections, I would much prefer to lean it somewhere, so it will not become scratched or dirty.”
    â€œYou just do that, happen you’re so minded and just so long as you’re real careful while you’re doing it,” the outlaw authorized. “But make good and god-damned sure you keep both hands in plain view all the while. Tommy Crane there might only be part Injun, but he could be all Injun way he’s so suspicious natured.”
    â€œUgh!” the second man with shoulder long black hair grunted gutterally, making a threatening gesture with his Colt. “That-um heap plenty true. Not trust-um paleface even if he look like fairy.”
    Directing a glare of bitter hatred at the speaker, Jaqfaye stepped quickly across to leave his cane against the front wheel of the stagecoach. Having done so, keeping his open hands in plain view although still showing his resentment over the derogatory comment, he turned and stood alongside the driver.
    Slightly taller than the Frenchman and better built without being anywhere close to bulky, the next passenger was a few years younger. Brown haired and clean shaven, he wore spectacles which gave a studious look to his tanned and reasonably handsome face. Although he wore a black Stetson hat with aMontana crown peak, the rest of his attire implied he was a town dweller of moderate circumstances. He too wore no visible armament and, on reaching the ground, he went immediately to join Tract and Jaqfaye.
    â€œTake it easy there, gents, I’m coming as fast as I can,” requested the third man to appear at the door of the vehicle, his New England voice placatory. “When you’re my size, you can’t move nowheres near so spry as these slender fellers.”
    There was some justification for the