the girls or the gold . . . or both!
DOOMSDAY IN DIABLO
Benteen realized as much a tense five minutes later when a rifle shot blossomed in the deepening gloom not more than a hundred feet away. He raised his Colt, realizing they were coming within sixgun range. He took careful aim at the drifting gunsmoke and triggered two fast shots. Instantly, the rifle to his right crashed and he gasped as hot lead burned along his back. He whirled and pumped two bullets at the invisible rifleman, then hugged the rock as the sniper from the left cut loose, sending lead whining inches above his head.
It was then, with the canyon echoing to the crash of bullets and the smell of cordite smoke sharp in his nostrils, that the rawhide-tough bounty hunter began to believe he might die. He’d suffered intensely throughout the day but at no stage had despair taken hold of him.
Until now . . .