Sheriff Jones stood up from his veranda chair. Could see dust rising in the trees down the trail. The sound of a powerful engine cruising towards the town? That was unusual. A thought of imminent danger set off a warning signal to him.

     "What's wrong, sheriff?" asked Camano.

     Jones tilted his head and listened. "Don't know. There's something out there. Can you hear it?"

     "I hear an engine," said Raynes.

     "And now it's quietened," said Jones. "Now why would anybody want to slow down or stop at the edge of town? Nobody owns land out that way; nobody lives out there; nobody works there. So why is a car coming at a fast lick and then she slows to a crawl?"

     From the edge of pine trees came a car. Slow - real slow. It stopped at the end of Main Street. The engine growled, lion-like, low - and threatening.

     "A Buick Riviera," said Raynes.

     Jones shook his head in doubt. "Nobody around here owns a Riviera."

     Suddenly, the Buick took off. Tyres digging dirt. It screeched toward the Sheriff's Office. Rickard had both guns resting on the window frame. He blasted off several shots as Wade streaked past the veranda. Jones and the others dived for cover. One round smashed into the office door. Another shattered a window. Camano dragged out his service revolver and fired two shots at the Riviera which had now reached the school. Wade swung the car round, tyres squealing, engine roaring, then put his foot down and tore back toward the veranda. Jones cursed aloud.

     "It's that bastard, Rickard!" he snarled. "Blast him off the street."

     Deputy Camano went down the veranda steps, gun in hand. Jones called him back, but reason had left Camano. It was time to right the wrongs of his past. The Riviera was almost on top of him. Rickard had switched windows, his weapons pointing out as though miniature guns on a battleship. Lennox let go with three rounds. Camano fired twice. Both his shots hit Wade. He lost control. The Riviera careered towards Bennett's Garage on the opposite side of Main Street. Rickard blazed off more shots. Camano felt pain in his chest. The sun revolved to him as he hit the dust. Deputy Raynes was shooting. Both of his shots hit Rickard in the head. The Buick smashed into the garage iron gate entrance and rolled onto its side, the engine screaming as the dying Wade still fought for acceleration.

     Lennox and Raynes reached the Buick, guns ready. Jones knelt beside Camano. There was nothing he could do: Camano had gone. Jones got up, walked to the Buick, looked inside. Rickard was lifeless. Tommy Wade was choking blood. Jones reached inside and switched off the engine. Pocketed the keys. Wade tried to speak, eyes bulging, gurgled once...now lay silent and still.

     Jones, after ensuring neither Lennox nor Raynes were injured said, "Ganford, phone Doc Bailey. Get him here. His number is in a blue book by the telephone.

                                                   *   *   *

The incident brought more people onto Main Street than Sheriff Jones had seen in years. He left Lennox and Raynes on crowd control and telephoned Allenby's Sheriff Webster and explained the situation. Webster was delighted that Rickard and Wade were out of circulation, but expressed his distress at Deputy Camano's death. He, Webster, would visit Julienne to offer condolences to Mrs Camano and to her daughter, Lauren.

     Forty-eight hours after the shoot-out, Webster returned to Allenby, leaving Deputy Raynes as a temporary stand-in to assist Jones until a new deputy was allocated.

     In those forty-eight hours Jones was experiencing severe loss over Camano's demise. He considered his options, hardly talking to Lennox or to Raynes.

     "Want to tell me something, sheriff?" said Lennox.

     Jones nodded. The weight of the Allenby bank robbery had become too much for him. He give Lennox and Raynes what details they needed to know. The result was overpowering. Lennox phoned Webster and asked for an immediate replacement for Deputy Raynes: said he needed Raynes' presence to further the robbery investigation. Webster agreed to the request and after a deputy had turned up the next morning, Lennox and Raynes set off for the High Cut Pass.

     Early that afternoon, Lennox and Raynes reached the site where Billy Radford had left the trail and smashed into trees down the mountain. "Not much chance of Billy's survival," Raynes said, looking down the rock face.

     "Maybe not," Lennox said. "Let's go see the Kingdom boys."

     Deputy Raynes radioed Sheriff Webster and gave him their position and their intended destination. Webster said he would give them two hours and if he heard nothing from them, he would come in with cavalry.

                                                  *   *   *


Lennox pulled off the High Cut and drove, with Raynes following, along the trail toward the Caravan Kingdom site which was baking in the sun. Figures moved among the cedars. Lennox stopped yards from a caravan. Its door opened. A man in his thirties came out carrying a shotgun. Other doors opened. Men came from among the trees. All were armed.

     The man Lennox remembered as 'Shotgun', said, "You've come back, huh? Thought we told you to stay away?"

     Lennox climbed out the Pontiac. "Want to speak to Pa Hayden."

     "You've brought a cop with you," said Skinny.

     Lennox brought out his badge. "I'm Jim Lennox, a New York cop. My partner is Deputy Ganford Raynes - an Allenby officer. We're on official business. Where's Pa?"

     "We don't talk to cops," said Shotgun.

     Lennox shrugged his own powerful shoulders. "It's Pa Hayden I want. Go get him."

     "Pa ain't interested in talking," Shotgun said. "He don't answer to you - or to your black-faced friend."

     Lennox closed with Shotgun, towering over him. "You speak bad about my friend and I'll smack you in the mouth. You got that?"

     "He didn't mean what he just said," Skinny croaked. "But Shotgun's right. Pa don't speak to cops."

     "He spoke to me the last time I was here."

     "That was the last time," sneered Shotgun. 

     "Go get Pa," said Lennox. "Either you get him, or we look for him and we take him in. Now which is it to be?"

     Somebody went to get Pa and he appeared dressed as the last time Lennox had seen him. Crumpled gray shirt, threadbare pants, slack trouser bracers hanging round his legs. "You wanna speak to me," he rasped, staring at Raynes but passing no comment.

     "The Allenby '60 bank robbery," said Lennox. "Tell us about that."

     "We know nothing," said Skinny. "That happened years back."

     Lennox turned to Raynes. "Refresh their memories, Ganford. Show them the photographs."

     Raynes presented Amy Chalmers and Johnny Benson: clear-cut photographs taken at Vincent Mallory's Allenby studio.

     Pa Hayden licked dry lips. "What about them?"

     "You told me you saw this couple in '59 and in '60," said Lennox.

     "That's right." Pa shoved a hand through his head of gray hair. "I said that. I came right out and said that."

     "Tell us what else you know."

     "There's nothing to tell."

     "So you can't tell us anything about the accident - when Radford went over the edge on the High Cut?"

     Pa shook his head. "We were out that way when Radford went over. But that's all."

     "You helped Sheriff Webster search for Billy?"

     "We had a look, yeah, but Billy had gone. The cops never found him. He's just bones now."

     Lennox scanned the caravans he could see. They were in good order. "Heard about Sheriff Jones, Pa?"

     "What should I have heard?"

     "That he's Julienne town sheriff."

     "Yeah, I heard."

     "And you know about the Julienne gunfight with two killers?"

     "It came over the radio," Skinny said.

     "And you know Deputy Amos Camano was killed?"

     Pa nodded. "Yeah, that's tough. He was a good man."

     "But what you don't know, Pa, is that Sheriff Jones has told us about the robbery."

     "What did he tell you?"

     "Everything."

     Pa was looking round at two other oldsters coming towards them. He turned back to Lennox, sweat showing on his tanned brow. "What's that to do with us?"

     Lennox was a patient man but his tolerance level was running low. "Jones has told us about the accident. I need you to corroborate that. Now can we speak uninterrupted in a caravan about this - or do I shove you in an Allenby cell?"

     "Jones spilled his guts, huh?" said Pa.

     "Say nothing, Pa," growled Shotgun.

     "Sorry," said Pa, "but me and these cops have some talking to do."