Chapter 1

He could feel the tremendous strength wrapped in the muscles of roan he forked in the gate. The horse looked back at him with madness blazing from the eye surrounded by the icy white blaze. Once more he adjusted the taut strap around his gloved fist. He glanced once at the gate keeper, raised his knees to parallel his nervous mount's spine and nodded his readiness. As the lock bar clanked open, the swinger pulled the steel bars away from the chute and the roan exploded into the arena.

His mental countdown started as he fought the thrusts of equine fear and twists of anger. He could tell the ride was going well as his flat crowned hat remained perched on his brow as the countdown reached two... one... and the bell.

Even as he started to kick free of the spinning bronc, the ground twisted under the steel-shod hooves from raked soil to writhing snakes. The strident song of the bell jerked him from half-a-dozen feet above a deadly mass of serpents to thousands of feet above the concrete and steel of a major city. Again the bell ripped. A molten pool of lava whose breathe scorched his face and eyes as the strap parted and he began to fall.

The fourth ring brought Joshua upright in the tangle of sweat soaked sheets. Conscious thought snapped him back to the wide bed and the insistent voice of the telephone. He drew a dry portion of the sheet to mop his saturated face while reaching toward the bedside table to silence the raucous noise.

"Josh Hardesty." His level voice belied his rapid pulse.

"Josh, This is Henry. Stewart is dead."

All thoughts of the terrifying nightmare fled as Josh flipped to a mental image of the soft spoken Stewart Brindle as he had last seen him three days earlier.

"What happened?" He asked.

Miller County Sheriff Henry Wainwright spoke for several minutes about the scene at the Shady Lane Apartments. He described in grim detail the tableau of the storage area beneath the sixteen unit building.

"That makes four in ten days. All of them members of the team. I want you and the others in my office in an hour so I can deputize you. No arguments Josh, I am lost. I have no idea who the other four were, but we know they were planning to torch the place, the gas cans were next to the bodies. Be here in an hour and remember, deputies are always on duty."

"Ok, I'll be there. I'm sorry about Stew, Henry. I know you two were tight."

"Yeah. We were. Thanks. I'll see you in an hour."

The coursing waters of the overhead and side mounted showerheads gave Josh a chance to consider the details supplied during the conversation. Originally thought to be a random act of violence. The image changed when Stewart Brindle's work schedule, and pictures of the entire Texarkana Gun Club Combat Team were found stuffed in a child's composition book. The strangers were too well armed to have been a civilian force, and questions raged about the reasons for the deaths. It seemed as though someone were waging an undeclared war against his closest friends.

Josh did not dwell on events as he towelled off and padded toward the walk-in closet to pick out his suit. He started to grab a banker's pin stripe, then shifted his grip when he remembered having to stop and be sworn in as a Miller County Deputy. His mind walked through the day's business and his plan's to meet the plane bringing Sam and Vicky back from vacation. The hat casually grabbed from the upper shelf sailed neatly to the foot of the unmade bed he as stooped to snatch the rich brown wellingtons from their corner.

Breakfast was a simple mix of cold cereal, toast and rich coffee. Still in his underwear, Josh rinsed the bowl and swiped the crumbs from the counter. A glance at the clock gave him plenty of time to dawdle as he selected shirt and socks, tie and tie clasp.

After stomping into his boots he reached for the hat, and recalled the dream. The color was the same as the horse in the dream, and the angry orb surounded by white flashed to his mind's eye. He was sure he knew the horse from somewhere. He stood, hat in hand, forcing himself to remember all of the people who had horses. The connection evaded him.

He started to straighten the bed until he remembered the joy on Samantha's face when he had left the bed unmade after her last overnight trip. A smile crinkled his eyes as he called back the image of her saying how much she enjoyed doing these little things for him. He left the bed in disarray.

Darkness still gripped the small city when he pulled to the rear of the Miller County Courthouse. He skipped the odd steps leading to the double doors, and followed the quiet halls to the Sheriff's private office.

Henry Wainwright's tonsure like bald spot gleamed dully in the fluorescent brightness as he poured over the stacks of paper carpeting his generous oak desk. Josh paused before entering, but before he could fully stop Henry's gruff voice sounded an invitation to enter and sit down.